The Vigilante
by Haitorei
Summary: Someone is hunting former Death Eaters, and the wizarding world is rushing to unmask this Vigilante. SlytherinHarry.
1. Chapter 1

The Lies of a Dead Man

The thief darted past one of the lesser known pawn shops in Knockturn Alley, vaulted over a crate of strange looking plants, and desparately slid underneath the trapdoor. Waiting for what seemed an eternity, he moved to reveal the slightest crack of light in the trap door, when suddenly it flung wildly open.  
"Mundungus."  
The man knew there was no possibility of forgiveness. "L-Lucius. What a p-pleasure."  
Long golden-grey locks were combed back by aged fingers. "I believe you have something of mine."  
The thief froze. Lucius knew far more than he should have. And his so-called protection had abandoned him. No, worse - set him up with one of the most dangerous men in the wizarding world. Silently cursing his fate, he resolved to at least leave with some dignity.  
"Can't."  
A black glove was instantly on his throat, squeezing his windpipe.  
"D-Don't... have it..." He wheezed as air returned to his lungs. Dignity was an exceedingly rare commodity for Mundungus in general, but when dealing with Lucius it was a near impossibility. He knew it was over before it began. Between the goblin goods he had never returned, his debt to mob, and his current fiasco with the Malfoys, there was no possibility of his surviving. But dignity wasn't given. And what regrets does a dying man have, anyway? No, if he were to die on this day, then he'd make their lives as miserable as possible.  
"It appears you've been staying in this literal shithole trying to run from me. Unless you wish to die here, you will tell me exactly what I want to know."  
Mundungus suddenly couldn't help but smile. He tried to keep it in, for his fear was near paralyzing, but his incidental happiness burst out into a chuckle that grew into an insane laughter. "You have no idea, do you little man? How do you think it is that the boy killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" For the first time, and likely the last in his life, Mundungus Fletcher was having fun. Spitting on Lucius Malfoy's spotless leather shoes, he madly guffawed. "He's the most powerful dark wizard in history. And if he has your precious diary, ain't nothing I can do about it." The look on Lucius' face was satisfaction enough to bring a rare smile to the miscreant's face.  
A flash of green lit the room, but even when it faded, the smile remained etched upon the thief's face. The man had no friends, and his funeral would not be well attended. But those who knew him would say it was the happiest he'd been since the gambling took over his life.

Consider Me Impressed

Lucius Malfoy couldn't seem to forget his last encounter with Mundungus - not because the diary was lost; he'd imagined that much, given whom he was dealing with. He'd assumed at worst the rat had pawned it off to some other low-life, and a trail of bread crums later he'd kill whomever responsible, and probably many along the way. But the simultaneous backbone Mundungus seemed to have found along with the news of the boy's magical prowess was nothing short of shocking. If the boy did indeed have dark powers unlike any the world had seen, then perhaps it was time to befriend him.  
Realizing he'd taken the wrong turn, he stopped in his tracks. He needed to focus. A deep breath later, he'd reprioritized. He was in Dumbledore's forsaken castle out of necessity, for Draco. And if he wasn't careful, he'd divulge more than absolutely vital. Diving into the dungeons, he quickly moved letting his old memories guide him. Entering the familiar chambers, he ducked under abnormally low doorway that hadn't changed in decades.  
"Severus."  
If his former pupil was surprised he certainly didn't show it.  
"Lucius," the man smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"  
He slammed the door. "Enough with the pleasantries. I need to speak with you about urgent business. You're the only one that can be trusted with this."  
Jet black hair bobbed as the man rose. "Then speak, and I shall aid in whatever means my limited capacity allows."  
"Mundungus is dead."  
"A tragic loss, to be sure."  
"Before his... accident, he revealed troubling issues. Not only did he find the backbone to stand up to me, he declared he couldn't give back something he'd taken because an even stronger wizard than I had taken it. A wizard even stronger than the Dark Lord, Severus. Do you realize what this means?"  
"Dumbledore has your belongings?"  
"Bah, the old wart has - "  
"I like it no more than you, but even the Dark Lord never dared to attack Hogwarts with Dumbledore present. We both know that."  
"It's not Dumbledore. It's a new Dark wizard. More powerful than any our world has ever seen."  
Snape snorted. "Lunacy from a dying thief should seldom be heeded."  
"Haven't you ever wondered, Severus, how our master was defeated?"  
A deep silence proceeded this question. Eventually Snape replied with "Some things are beyond us."  
"Is that the extent of your loyalty? You, who seemed so eager to prove yourself, have sunken this far. Perhaps you enjoy the comforts of Dumbledore?"  
"Of course I've wondered! I've spent every day, every passing moment for the better part of a decade trying to resolve that particular mystery, to no avail. Tell me Lucius, what have you done? Made friends with the Ministry and swear off all ties? Don't pretend you're better than me."  
"I've come far enough to realize the cause of the Dark Lord's demise."  
"An eleven year old boy is no dark wizard. He doesn't even have a wand."  
"I come for Draco, not your confidence. If I'm even the slightest bit correct, my son is in grave danger. Promise me you'll look after him."  
Snape turned back to his work. "You never even had to ask."  
Turning to leave, Lucius replied, "I had hoped to impress on you the severity of the situation."  
"Consider me impressed," but his reassurances fell upon an empty room.

The Knights of Walpurgis

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was unusually empty after visitor's hours ended. Unlike many hospitals, the healers also went home after visiting hours closed to get some semblance of normalcy before returning the next day to deal with the worst injuries the wizarding world knew about, and some that most people didn't know about.  
And, fortunately for a particular wizard, that meant rather lax security after-hours. A doorknob gently twisted open, and a key popped out of the keyhole. Soft footsteps could be heard going up to the fifth floor, but most of the patients at St. Mungo's were comatose, and these soft sounds fell upon deaf ears.  
The fifth floor corridor opened to reveal Avery Senior, coma patient number thirty-seven. The intruder gently placed his left index finger in front of Avery's nose, and the man awoke with a start. The gray hairs were patchy at best, and the stress wrinkles had only grown in his time at the hospital.  
"Well now, this is awkward. You see you have some information for me, and I'm afraid I need to drug you for it."  
The patient's muffled struggles were drowned out by the gurgling of a potion he violently tried to spit out, but the intruder forced it down, and soon enough the old man calmed down, and a translucent consciousness took over.  
"Hmm, I have two minutes, so let's make this quick. What are the Knights of Walpurgis?"  
"An ancient order dedicated to furthering the noble Salazaar Slytherin's goal of purifying the wizarding world."  
"And the list that Fletcher stole?"  
"A list of its secret members, all of whom the Dark Lord justly recruited to his task."  
"Death Eaters."  
"Yes."  
"Who has the list?"  
"Lucius Malfoy."  
"Excellent, our friend should already have it then. How up to date is it?"  
"Mr. Malfoy is charged with updating it every two years - a task he takes very seriously."  
"What is this diary that Malfoy was so scared of losing?"  
But by now the old man was already stirring and resisting the draught. "Something very valuable," he said vaguely.  
"How valuable?"  
"V-Very, very much indeed."  
The wizard had had just about enough with the cat and mouse games. "Pathetic old man. Do you think your son will miss you? Do you think he'll even care?" The man didn't wait for a response. "Oxy," he called gently. The man watched as the corpse was adequately decorated. Still, it didn't feel quite right. "Hmm, how about 'Justice'?" The snake hissed, presumably pleased. "I like it, too" the man agreed, and once his message was conveyed, the intruder left with a sudden pop.

Quiet boots strolled passed Borgin and Burkes and came upon an all-too familiar trap door. A gloved hand squeezed the brim of a nose. "Well," the wizard remarked lightly. "Corpses do smell rather awful, don't they Oxy." With a wave of a wand, the trap door flung open and a snake slithered out of the man's pocket. To most, the hissing would have been meaningless ambient noise, but this wizard laughed and responded with a "Yes, Oxy, you may eat him. After all, he has proven exceedingly useful." Another swish and flick, and a single piece of parchment floated out of the man's pocket.  
"The Knights of Walpurgis," the wizard murmered softly. "Thirty-two names." A small vial was taken out of the wizard's pocket. Almost artistically, his right hand carefully dipped his index finger into the vial, wetting the tip of his glove in a crimson liquid. In a swift motion, he rubbed a hard, final line over the name "Avery". "Thirty-one," he said softly.

Felix Culpa

Cornelius Fudge, newly minted Minister of Magic, had barely had his morning coffee when the day showed just how ugly it was planning to be. Barty Crouch Sr. decided to expedite the trial of Thorfinne Rowle, accused of being a Death Eater. Even this early in his tenure, Fudge could tell the Death Eater trials would easily be the worst part of being Minister of Magic. Get a sentence wrong, and you've sent an innocent person to Azkaban. Get one wrong the other way, and you've let a Death Eater walk free. And in the process, regardless of the outcome, you question every noble pure-blood family, accusing each one of them of being Death Eaters, or at least key witnesses who served as guilty bystanders.  
Sighing, he walked down to the second floor and entered the atrium where the Wizengamot resided. In the center stood Rowle, a giant of a man with striking blonde hair and an equally striking brutal face. If he was scared he certainly wasn't showing it.  
"So, Minister," he began in a booming voice that nearly made Fudge drop his coffee. "What so-called evidence do you have this time?"  
"You will speak when spoken to," a gruff voice barked.  
Fudge sighed with relief. Mad-Eye, insane as he was, always made people feel safer. "It's my last case before retirement, and the likes of you sure aren't going to ruin it." With a flick of a wand, the man was silenced. As much as he tried to scream, only air seemed to come out of his mouth.  
"Th-Thank you, Alastor."  
The nearly ex-auror seemed to look him over thoroughly. "Still finding your feet, eh Fudge? Well I'd recommend you find them fast. Constant vigilance, Minister, constant vigilance. There are some trying times ahead." And with that he walked off to his own stand.  
Thankfully, the last of the great antics seemed to come to an end. The trial itself was incredibly boring, save for the one moment Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody had to begrudgingly un-mute the defendant so he could, well, speak to his defense. The hours dragged by and eventually the members of the Wizengamot concluded to have a recess to discuss the case and come to a final conclusion. He watched as their silver 'W's shone in the dark-lit room. Purple robes slowly fluttered out of the room, and Albus Dumbledore's bright beard shone as a beacon of hope. Fudge distinctly caught Dumbledore's winking smile, and he felt content already. That man saved him more times than he could count; honestly, it didn't make any sense as to why he wasn't Minister already. He was the only wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever feared. What more did one need on a resume?  
He barely registered the man being escorted to his cell for the duration of the recess when Dumbledore seemed to step out. "A decision has been made."  
"Rather quickly," he heard Barty Crouch mumble. Fudge rather agreed - it seemed too short, and Dumbledore looked rather cross himself. This didn't bode well.  
"We find that we are mot mistaken in the case of Thorfinne Rowle, and the Wizengamot issues its utmost apology. He is freed of all charges."  
The youth representative - Waxley, Warney? He couldn't remember - ran up to Barty Crouch and whispered something in his ear.  
"What is it Barty?"  
"You'll want to see this, Minister."  
He shouldn't have been surprised when he saw Dumbledore in the cell already despite never seeing the man move, but he was. It seemed as though most would never begin to even comprehend the powers the man had. Fudge gasped when he stumbled onto the actual scene. The man was dead. Written in his blood was the single word 'Justice'. Fudge had barely composed himself when he heard Dumbledore say "Cornelius, I'm afraid I have pressing matters to attend to. I trust you are adequately prepared for this situation." Which, in Dumbledore speak, meant he was leaving with or without Cornelius' permission.  
A sudden cackle that was unmistakably Moody's lit up the room. Fudge didn't even notice when the man arrived.  
"Justice indeed. Serves ya right, Death Eater scum."  
"I'd be careful of what you accuse innocent people of, Moody." Lucius' voice, he remembered thinking to himself. Fudge's own gaze was still fixated on the body. The eyelids were rolled up, and his normally blue eyes were a murky black. The body itself seemed perfectly untouched, floating in the middle of the cell, its arms still tied together and wandless. Defenseless, Cornelius thought to himself. But where did the blood come from? And what could turn a man's eyes so deathly black?  
Lucius seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Unmistakable dark magic."  
"Don't like it when our side uses your tricks Malfoy?"  
"Enough Alastor." Fudge finally regained composure. "Lucius is right. We have a murderer on the loose - one that's willing to strike even within the Ministry. No one is safe. We do not know the motives behind the killing, and it would be unwise to assume the killer is only after suspected Death Eaters. And where are you going, Alastor?"  
"Pardon me, Minister," he said sarcastically. "But this is my last day. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a pint and celebrate this happy accident. Best damn send-off I could have hoped for."

The Justice of a Vigilante

The door to Rita Skeeter's office flung open.  
"Ah, Lucius, welcome, welcome." She smiled cordially. "And what can I do for you this fine day?" She smiled, ignoring the presently purple complexion of the middle-aged wizard fuming in her office.  
"Without a doubt, this secret vigilante's efforts to rid the wizarding world of the filth of Death Eaters is precisely what wizarding world needs in the wake of Minister Fudge's pudgy stance on imprisoning enemies of the state. This silent hero seeks no credit for the deeds he does, but instead is content with justice as an ideal - something he pursues when our paltry Ministry cannot deliver on their promises." He read the words in a torturously slow, disgusted tone.  
"Yes, I do especially like that part." Her eyes twinkled knowingly.  
Lucius crumpled up the paper and threw it away. "Enough with the coy. You've made your point."  
"Good. Then you know what must be done."  
"Fortunately, I have an even better alternative. You've always sought the story. And I'm here to offer you one."  
"Oh, and what story would that be?" The young journalist put the edge of the quill to her lips.  
"A coward who goes after patients in a coma; a criminal on the run who doesn't even show his face; someone who circumvents our justice system out of some crude notion of revenge."  
"You mean the Avery incident. That's been kept under tight lip, Lucius. I'm not sure if I could weasel a way into that," she chuckled.  
Lucius smirked. He knew he had her with the prospect alone. "I'm sure you'll find a way to... bug your way in."  
"And if I suddenly turned around and advocated for the exact opposite, what would my credibility be then? I'll do as you say, Lucius, but it will take some time."  
"Hmph. Do what you must."  
As Lucius left, Rita admired her recent handiwork. A stack of letters two feet tall - all raving reviews from her fans - current occupied her desk. "Yes, I think this is one for the wall afterall." With a flick of her wand, the recent article took its spot next to "Dumbledore: A Fluke" on the wall entitled "Skeeter's Hall of Fame."

A True Snake

A sharp cackling pierced the air. "Harry Potter," a deep, hissing sound spoke to him. Voldemort's voice. Harry wasn't sure how he knew, having never met the man but once. A dead, brown snake was tossed at his feet. "You sent this to do what you could not? A valiant soul. Her sacred blood need not have been wasted for your pathetic sake. You false snake."  
And in that moment Harry understood. Harry stared at Voldemort's cobra. Ophiophagus hannah. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he was certain. Ophiophagus hannah, the king of snakes. Primarily preys upon other snakes. The largest of the venemous snakes. A true snake. He didn't need to say the words out loud. Voldemort knew that he understood.  
The same green flash hurled towards him, lighting up his world.  
Harry awoke, clutching his scar as the sweat rolled down his messy black hair. This was no ordinary dream. It was a warning. He needed to progress faster. After all, he wasn't about to send a lion to clean up a snake's mess. He turned around and saw Oxy's brown scales gleam in the dark. She was still safe. For now.

* * *

I prefer to have author comments after the chapters and not before.

Please refer to my profile page for any and all disclaimers.

The image I used for this story is from Deviant Art, specifically Kai Luna's image titled Slytherin Harry.

General plans for this story are to have it follow the book's orders, but place Harry in Slytherin. I have a great deal of respect for authors like Kurinoone and her ilk, but many of the imitator stories are ones in which Harry is vastly over powered to the point of breaking the magic. Harry is not a god in this story nor will he be; he will be powerful, but I'd also like to focus more on the dynamic between the Slytherins and other houses more and also humanize the Death Eaters more.

I'm weird about pairings. There will be both Draco x Harry as well as Ginny x Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

Author notes / announcements at the end.

* * *

Memories of Oxy

Harry hadn't been able to fall asleep after that dream, and his thoughts ended up drifting towards Avery. The man had pretended to be in a coma to avoid going to trial, and ultimately, avoid Azkaban. Harry had no doubt he'd been communicating with the other Death Eaters; lying in wait, he'd live his life by night at St. Mungo's, doing whatever he could. A snake in the grass. The only question was how much damage did he really do.

Harry was pondering when he noticed a small envelop was left on the table by the innkeeper.

"Dudley is getting better. We'll be home by the end of the month."

Harry sighed. His aunt and uncle might be getting home, but Harry never would. His life was forever change the moment he realized he was a wizard. No, the day he met Oxy.

"CAUTION: Highly Venomous. Do not provoke."  
The sign was painted in a dark red, and a security guard stood next to it ensuring no visitor came too close. Harry tried to read the sign. Oxyuranus scutellatus. Entirely unsure of how to pronounce it, he moved to the descriptions instead. "The venom delivered in a single Taipan bite is enough to kill up to 12,000 guinea pigs. This is the largest venomous snake in Australia. Before anti-venom was available 100% of bites were fatal. The third most venomous snake in the world." Harry excitedly pressed his face to the glass to get a look, but he couldn't seem to locate it.  
Turning to the security guard, he asked, "Excuse me, but where is the snake?"  
"Oh she's just a baby dear. We couldn't allow an open cage like this if she were grown - they grow to be over eight feet long you know. She's just a couple inches right now so you have to look real hard."  
Harry looked over the cage more determined, but almost all of it was a dark brown. Once or twice he thought he found her, but it was just another leaf. Then, just when he'd almost given up, he found a scaly brown sheen. "There you are," he said quietly. "O-Oxy-Oxyuranus scutellatus. Phew, that's a mouthful."  
The snake seemed equally interested in him. It slithered out of the small hollow log.  
"What can we call you. Hmm, how about Oxy?"  
The security guard chuckled. "Trying to talk to it, are you? Aren't you just sweet. Oh don't mind me, just keep hissing away. Do me a favor and make sure no one comes to close will you? My shift is up, and my partner should be here any moment now."  
Harry barely heard the woman as she walked away. The snake could understand him, he just knew it. It nodded vigorously when he said Oxy. "Oxy," he said once more to reassure himself, and the snake now slipped out its tongue.  
"Ssso, what'sss you're name?" Its black eyes blinked, as if it were the most obvious question in the world.  
"I-I'm Harry. Harry Potter." It certainly didn't sound like a baby. Perhaps snakes were gifted in tongue. "It must be lonely to be in this cage all the time."  
'Oxy' nodded. "I have no friendsss. No one to speak to. Everyone'sss so afraid no one even comes close."  
"Y-You won't bite me, will you?"  
Oxy shook her head. "Friendsss."  
Harry smiled. Looking around, he didn't see anyone. Quickly, he reached over the glass and scooped her into his pocket. He felt better than he had in weeks. Today was the first day Harry'd been let out of his cupboard in a long time, and he'd already made a friend. He hadn't walked two feet the inevitable happened. Dudley.  
"Hey Harry, why were you putting your hand that tank?"  
"I-I was trying to see if it would bite me," he lied quickly.  
"Yeah? Well I bet it won't bite me. Stupid thing should be scared." He stuck his arm in there, determined to catch it.  
A hissing came from Harry's pocket. "I don't like him."  
Harry softly whispered when Dudley was turned around, "He's my idiot of a cousin."  
Dudley turned around, his arm still in the tank. "Where is it?" He demanded.  
"I don't know, it's just a baby." Harry began to walk away when he suddenly realized Oxy wasn't in his pocket anymore. He whirled around when Dudley screamed.  
"The stupid thing BIT me!"  
The leisurely stroll the new security guard was taking came to an end. Park rangers rushed over, and in the chaos Harry couldn't find Oxy.  
"Oxy! Oxy where are you?" He hissed loudly as strangers gawked at him. Harry realized he'd have to stop screaming and start searching for her. She had to be close to Dudley.  
By now Dudley was unconscious, and a full paramedic team was on site, draining the poison.  
"It's not working. Let's get him to a hospital, we're losing him." Harry overheard one of the medics. Guilt came over him. Of course she would bite people, she was a snake. It was in her nature. He sat down on a bench, not believing he'd trusted her.  
"Did I not please you?" a quiet voice came from below.  
Harry couldn't help but smile, relieved despite the guilt. "Oxy! I thought you'd left."  
"That boy is an ass. Tastes like ass, too."

Oxy slithered onto Harry's arm. "Why are you staring at me."  
Harry smiled. "Just remembering how we met. Poisoning Dudley," he chuckled.  
"Pity they saved the boy."  
"Oh stop it," Harry lightly patted her. "He's still family, even if it's the worst kind."  
She shook her head side to side, muttering "Muggles."  
"And, as a result of that little stunt, you were the most wanted snake in Little Whinging for weeks. I remember having to hide you and talk to you only at nights."  
She stood up as much as she could. "Humph. You needed your own place anyway; I just... facilitated."  
Harry smirked. "Facilitated? Always the way with words."  
"You have our latest mark?" she changed the subject to a serious one.  
"Rosier Senior. One of the earliest Death Eaters. He went to school with Voldemort. He's currently living alone. Recent injuries have put him in bed rest. An old man."  
"A viable target."  
Harry smiled. "We need information. And the truth serum we bought has almost run out. We're out of the other ones, too. We'll have to go back to Knockturn Alley to resupply."  
She showed her teeth, just barely listening to Harry. "Death Eater scum make the tastiest of meals."

A Strangle Fellow

"Headmaster," Snape called.  
"Severus, what can I do for you?"  
"Something's not... normal about Quirell."  
Dumbledore said nothing.  
"So you've noticed as well. The day before this Vigilante struck, Quirell was spotted in Knockturn Alley. Then a murder takes place in St. Mungo's - Avery."  
"I do remember, yes."  
"He was found visiting Knockturn Alley that morning as well."  
"You've done extensive research on a second-rate wizard, Severus." Dumbledore remarked quietly.  
"You know why I'm concerned," Severus remarked quietly. Half the times he was certain Dumbledore was simply bored and liked to reiterate how much cleverer he was than those around him.  
"Don't concern yourself with Lucius. His worries are based on a single incident that took place over a decade ago."  
"An incident for which we have no explanation."  
Dumbledore merely smiled, and Snape caught the twinkle in his eye.  
"You know, then?"  
Dumbledore merely bowed and said, "I thank you once again, for your concern Severus. You are an incredibly loyal and valuable ally."  
Snape was satisfied. He didn't need to know the explanation - the mere fact that Dumbledore understood and was unconcerned was enough. "I'd do anything for Lilly's boy."  
"Lilly and James' boy." Dumbledore quietly added.  
If Snape heard, he pretended otherwise. "And what would you have me do with Quirell this year?"  
"Keep close watch on him for me will you? This year we'll be safeguarding an especially valuable artifact that I'll need your help in protecting. He is... a rather strange fellow."  
Snape bowed and left Dumbledore's office.

The End of the Road

"I was wondering when you'd show up." A raspy voice responded. "Not a brave one, are you?" The old man chuckled. "No honor on your side after all."  
"I'm on my own side, Rosier."  
"Tell me, whose wand is that?"  
The robed wizard smiled. "Someone who won't be missing it."  
Rosier chuckled, bracing his own wand. "Three minutes, Harry Potter. Oh - yes, I know who you are, vigilante. I've done my research on you, just as you've researched me. I just have to survive another three minutes."  
There was a pause in the conversation. Harry was shocked that Rosier knew it was he behind the murders. It furthered his suspicion of Avery communicating with the other Death Eaters. But when did the man have time to warn the others? It must have been before Harry arrived. And then there was this mind game Rosier was playing. What happened in three minutes?  
Rosier laughed loudly now. "You really don't know, do you?"  
"My birthday?"  
"Your eleventh birthday, fool" Rosier corrected. "I really have to spell it out for you, don't I?"  
Harry didn't understand, but Rosier changed the subject.  
"You're pathetic. Not even a wizard yet. Buying potions from Knockturn Alley, preying on handcuffed, wandless witnesses and coma patients. I've been dealing with people more dangerous than you since I was at Hogwarts. Then again," he chuckled, "had you even attended a single class at Hogwarts you'd know the basics of dueling. Such as, never allow your opponent to catch you wandless." And with an agility that was uncommon of an ailing, bed ridden, old man, he flashed his wand and screamed "Crucio!"  
The pain was nothing like Harry had ever felt before. Writhing before in pain, his arms flailed uncontrollably, and as suddenly as it came, the pain disappeared. Harry lay on the floor trying to fill his lungs with the cool, sweet air.  
"Still have much to learn, don't you. If you'd read up on me at all, you'd know that this is my specialty." he paused to torture Harry for several more seconds.  
Harry had in fact read up on him. He felt ashamed. He'd encountered the word many times, but growing up with Muggles, he still couldn't understand many aspects of the wizarding world. He didn't know what "crucio" was or meant. And rather than find out, he'd rushed into a trap head first. Was Rosier even really injured? Or was that part of the trap that Rosier had planned out for him, knowing that he was still unconfident in his abilities and that he'd look for a weak target. He was angry with himself, but it wasn't heartfelt. The curse left him too exhausted for any real anger.  
"Time's up!" Rosier barked, smiling. "The end of the road. Congratulations Harry, you officially have the Trace on you. Oh, and happy birthday."  
Harry's eyes widened with comprehension. That was why Rosier was stalling. How stupid could he have been?  
"Crucio!" Rosier pointed the wand at Harry, and again, the agonizing pain ripped through Harry, and it was all he felt. "If you want it to stop. you will answer my questions. Where is the list?"  
But this time, Harry was prepared. He dived into Rosier, knocking both of them into the wall. In the chaos, Oxy fell out of Harry's pocket. She stuck her tongue out, eager to taste her meal. Rosier spotted the snake and did a double take on Harry. A hissing came from the wizard's mouth that caught Rosier off guard. Harry wasn't sure why, but this seemed to shock the old man. "Kill him." Harry hissed, and Oxy delivered.  
Harry stared at the body. The man knew too much - far too much. There simply wasn't enough research on him publicly available. Harry had tried to research himself, but besides the Boy-Who-Lived crap there was next to nothing. Dumbledore had ensured this by placing him in a Muggle household. So how had Rosier figured out the identity of the Vigilante? Harry shook his head. Why was he calling himself the Vigilante? As much as he hated it, the name had stuck. That stupid journalist ensured that.  
Rosier's corpse looked as if it were reaching for its arm. Pulling back the man's sleeve he found a skull tattoo with a snake coming out of it. The tattoo was glowing. Harry cursed loudly. He turned to Oxy. "This is how they've been communicating all this time!"  
"So much for surprise on your side." She replied.  
"Did you see him activate it?"  
She shook her head.  
"Neither did I. Which means either they activate it without a wand, or he did so before I got here."  
"Let's hope it was before, then."  
Harry agreed. Oxy was his trump card. No one knew about her. No one could know about her. He protectively took her and wrapped him around his neck.  
"Quit worrying. Nobody knows about me."  
"What?"  
"You always do this when you're feeling overly protective."  
"Do what?"  
"Wrap me around yourself, as if that's going to change anything." She playfully licked him.  
Harry ignored her but for a roll of his eyes. She knew why he did this, and as much as she wouldn't admit it, she liked it. No sooner had Harry thought this when he saw Oxy already asleep on his shoulder.

Vigilante's Unique Justice

The Vigilante's Unique Justice, by Rita Skeeter  
The Vigilante has struck twice more, again targeting Death Eaters, or those thought to have been Death Eaters. Avery Senior, a known Death Eater and coma patient, was found dead in St. Mungo's Hospital with the word "Justice" written in what's presumed to be his own blood (we're still waiting for the Healers to confirm). Like Thorfinn Rowle, Avery's eyes are black as night. Healers have determined that this occurs normally when the body has been aged for at least forty-eight hours, but in the cases of these victims, it seems this occurs in just minutes. The third victim in what is now a serial killing is Rosier Senior, a bed-ridden patient who is long suspected of being a Death Eater. He was found dead in his home just yesterday morning. The word "Justice" was written on the walls.  
Although many, including myself, were captivated by the cause the Vigilante stood for, one must wonder whether he has strayed too far from his initial goals. Rather than going after known but missing Death Eaters, or even those in Azkaban, this killer chooses to go after the wandless, the unconscious, and the elderly. One must wonder just what kind of coward stoops to such a level to exact his crude form of justice. Perhaps this vengeance driven vigilante would come out so we may ask him (or her) some questions as well; instead, for now the killer simply hides behind anonymity.

"Better?" the journalist asked.  
"Better." Malfoy replied.  
"Don't worry, this was just a stall. I need more details about his personal life before I do what I do best. Besides, a slow change of opinion is more heartfelt, and likely to convince more people." She stared at the article. No, it wasn't good enough for the wall. This was just a staller. When she brought down the Vigilante with her pen, then she'd have a real Hall of Fame article.

A Killer's Writing

Harry was furious. "How could we have missed the signs?" He was practically screaming. "Our vetting process is pathetic. And now they know!"  
Oxy looked at him intently.  
"What," he panted.  
"They also know you have the trace on you."  
Harry caught on. "So they think they're safe for the next couple years."  
"Until you're seventeen," she gently corrected.  
"You think I can get them to come to me, then?"  
"And why not? What better time to strike for them?"  
Harry pushed the stack of books off the table. "Then we know what we have to do. First, get the Trace off." He started picking books off the shelves and throwing them onto the table. Tonight would be a long night, and the curse had left him exhausted, but he was determined. He couldn't repeat the failure that took place at Rosier's again. Never again.  
"Good morning, Mr. Potter." The innkeeper smiled gently.  
Harry nearly jumped. He'd lost track of the time entirely. "Good morning," he managed a cheeky grin.  
"So hard at work. Well, you'll be pleased when all your hard work pays off."  
"Erm, pays off for what?" What did he know? Had Harry been louder than he thought last night?  
"At Hogwarts, of course!" The man beamed and handed him a letter.  
Harry stared at the letter long after the innkeeper left. The Hogwarts invitation had come at last. Just several hours ago, he'd have ripped the paper and tossed it into the fire. Several people had explained to Harry the premise of Hogwarts and it seemed essentially pointless - a secluded learning environment? After being shunted away from his world for nearly a decade, he'd had enough. He wanted to be immersed in it, not in some castle in an isolated forest. And besides, he'd learned plenty at Diagon Alley. Or so he'd thought. Now, though, he stared at the letter with a new anxiety. The hit on Rosier was a stupendous disaster, and in five minutes the older man had revealed gaping holes in Harry's knowledge of the wizarding world. He'd have to go.  
But now there were other issues. He'd learned it was customary for students to have a toad, or more recently an owl, as a pet. He'd stick out like a sore thumb bringing Oxy. He hadn't told a soul yet that he could speak to her, but given the shock Rosier was in when he revealed her, Harry thought it'd be best to keep it hidden. And where would he hide her? In his dorm room? She'd hate him for cooping her up like that. And how was he supposed to reply to this letter? His handwriting was now in every major newspaper in Britain thanks to that Skeeter woman. Someone was bound to connect the dots. And what house would he be put in? He sighed. Perhaps it was better to not go. He could find an alternative to his education.  
"Having doubts?" Oxy asked sleepily.  
Harry stared at the blue string wrapped around his wrist. His aunt and uncle had said Harry had been clutching it in his arms the day he died. Mysteriously enough, no on in Diagon Alley could identify it. He'd kept it through the years for a sentimental reason, but more recently it was the bond upon which he and Oxy had forged a pact. A pact to wipe out Voldemort's supporters and avenge Harry's parents. A pact that they would be inseparable until the mission was complete. "I still remember." The turquoise was hypnotic.  
"We should go, Harry."  
He stroked her scales out of habit. She had grown a great deal since he'd first found her. "And where will you hide?"  
"I'll find a place."  
"And if they take you from me?"  
"I'll kill them," she suggested happily. She wrapped herself into a tight coil in Harry's lap and closed her eyes as if it were the end of the conversation.  
Harry smiled. "Stubborn snake. And how am I going to reply? They'll recognize my handwriting." But she was already asleep. How was he supposed to just put his pact on hold? He had twenty-nine more names to cross out. He'd have to write with his left hand to hide his penmanship.  
He put the list down and took out a pen.  
"Dear Professor McGonagall,  
I accept your invitation with the greatest gratitude. I look forward to seeing you this coming academic year. I have much to learn.  
Yours,  
Harry Potter"  
It was laughably close to some type of rabid animal scratching the wall, but it would do.  
He went to put on his cardigan when he winced with pain. The torturing spell had caused Harry to flail his arms wildly, and he had hurt himself all over during the process. Still, it was worth the valuable lesson he learned. If an injured old man was capable of nearly killing Harry, then he was woefully unprepared for what was to come. He had more research - proper research - to do.

Harry woke up next morning to a pat on the back from the largest man he'd ever seen.  
"Hi there Harry! Name's Hagrid." He beamed.  
Harry looked around and realized he had fallen asleep mid research. He quickly packed away the books in front of him before anyone realized he'd been researching old Death Eaters. "H-Hi there Hagrid," he replied distractedly. "What can I do for you?"  
"Bah, don't be silly Harry. Professor Dumbledore sent me to help you get your things for Hogwarts." He smiled widely.  
"Oh." Realization hit him. It's not that he had forgotten, it just wasn't on the forefront of his mind. And he'd forgotten. "Pleased to meet you Hagrid," Harry returned the smile.  
"Looked for you on Pivet Drive, but it seems you already found your way to Diagon Alley!"  
"Sorry about that. Just a temporary living arrangement while my cousin is in the hospital." Dudley had been recovering for months now, and from the letters his aunt and uncle had sent him, he should be getting out any day now. Harry couldn't go away to Hogwarts soon enough.  
"Hitting books early, eh? Good fer you Harry."  
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Yes, when I got my letter I was so excited. Finally in the wizarding world after all these years, I couldn't help myself." He lied smoothly. Hagrid, he deduced, was a large teddy bear. Playing the innocent child card would be the best route.  
They went to Gringotts first, during which Hagrid looked exceedingly green, and sure enough the man held in vomiting for as long as he could. Harry was sure he was about to upchuck when the cart finally stopped rolling. Since Harry had already withdrawn his money, they went directly to a secret vault Hagrid wouldn't tell him about. Curiously enough, the all-important package was no larger than an apple, and it was wrapped in a brown cloth. Hagrid pocketed it, and they proceeded outside.  
"Yeh'll have to excuse me, Harry. I think I'll go have myself a pick-me-up at the Leaky Cauldron. You don't mind, do ya?"  
Harry agreed that it was a good idea. He looked at Hagrid's list and found Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions next on the list. Harry entered the shop alone, feeling nervous for the first time. He wasn't sure why he felt so, considering he'd been at Diagon Alley for months now, but the excitement of Hogwarts had a certain nervousness associated with it.  
He was just about to speak when Madam Malkin, a smiling witch dressed in all mauve, spoke. "Hogwarts, dear? Come in, got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now."  
In the back, a pale, blond-haired boy was getting fitted with his robes pinned up.  
"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?"  
"Yes," Harry said coolly. He didn't need more than three seconds to recognize the boy instantly. How many times had he seen the family pictures in his research? Draco Malfoy, the only heir of the list-keeper Lucius Malfoy. The man he really wanted. Harry decided he'd have to get close to the boy, but he wasn't sure how. It took all of three seconds for Draco to nearly spew out the essence of Dudley.  
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."  
Harry tried not to gag. Forcing a smile, he said "How nice." How would he get close to the boy without vomiting?  
"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.  
"No," said Harry.  
"Play Quidditch at all?"  
"No," Harry said again. He'd been in the wizarding world long enough to know what Quidditch was, but it seemed rather... trivial.  
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"  
Harry blinked. He'd forgotten about the house system; of course, many wizards had spoken to Harry about it, but it seemed akin to the muggle fraternities. During schooling everyone seemed obsessed with them, but afterwards most adults forgot about them. In fact, he couldn't remember a single wizard or witch bragging about his own house. He hadn't given any thought to it. And then, he suddenly knew how to get close to the boy. "Slytherin, I suspect."  
It worked.  
After a short pause, the boy smiled. "Glad to meet a like minded friend."  
"Indeed. You wouldn't believe the riffraff I've had to deal with." It worked like a charm.  
Draco nodded knowingly. "Trust me, I know." Draco sounded very much like he was imitating someone, trying very hard to sound adult-like. Probably his father, Harry decided.  
At that moment, Hagrid was waving from outside the store. Harry groaned internally and wondered what Draco would say, but luckily the boy was too engrossed in the excitement of finding another Slytherin to care. Hagrid, however was eagerly looking for Harry to acknowledge him, so Harry was forced to smile and pretend he found Draco's snide attempt at a joke exceedingly funny.  
"Say, what's your na - "  
"Okay dear," Madam Malkin came in. "You're done!" She said to Harry.  
Harry whirled around with a quick "See you at Hogwarts then," leaving a stunned Draco behind in the shop.  
"Sorry I couldn't wave back you there, Madam Malkin had my arms all tied up with pins."  
Hagrid waved it off. "So, who was your friend there?"  
"Not sure about his name. He was kind of an ass to be honest. Wants to be in Slytherin desperately, I think," he paused to look at Hagrid. The man wore his soul on his sleeves, and Harry felt he'd be a good guesstimate of how others would react.  
Sure enough, Hagrid's face was somber. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."  
Harry hadn't thought about that. Still, a part of him was intrigued by this knowledge rather than repulsed. What was it about the Slytherins that caused them to go, as Hagrid put it, 'bad'? And if this was true, then how could he pass up an opportunity to be in Slytherin? He'd need to know whatever they learned if he was ever going to be successful at hunting down the other Death Eaters. He'd have to know the tricks of the trade, the way they think, and their methods.  
The rest of the shopping went by rather uneventfully, and soon enough all that remained was getting Harry's wand.

To Hogwarts!

"Can you believe it?" Harry was ecstatic; he knew he shouldn't be, but he couldn't help it. "My wand has the same core as Voldemort's!"  
"I know, I was there, you don't have to retell the entire story."  
"Well, yeah but, you were in my pocket. I just thought you wouldn't have as good of a view from - "  
"You're missing the larger problem." Oxy frowned.  
"What?" Harry's head was still spinning from excitement. He finally had his own wand.  
"You'll be gone for seven years. Six years until the trace is off of you. And, Ollivander knows you're right-handed now."  
"So?"  
"Harry, these are loose ends. Your cover as the Vigilante will be exposed. It's just a question of when. What are the teachers going to say when they see you writing left handed but using your wand with your other hand? And what happens when people notice these murders only take place during the summer holidays? This is a serious issue."  
He hadn't thought about that. It would be a dead giveaway that the Vigilante was at Hogwarts. He'd have to find a way to kill while at Hogwarts. Or give up for six years.  
She looked at him, unblinking. "The Vigilante need to stop killing for a while."  
Harry shook his head. "No, the only reason I'm even going to Hogwarts is to kill these bastards. That's not an option."  
"No, listen to me. The Vigilante, needs to stop killing for a while. No more justice signs, no more blood. If they just happen to drop dead, then no one links it to us."  
"Absolutely not."  
She slithered onto his shoulder. "Harry, please - "  
"That is not happening. We agreed that we'd announce it to the whole world. The Vigilante is a symbol of hope to others like me that someone will do something. That someone will kill these assholes. It tells these fuckers that I'm coming after them, and there's nothing they can do about it. So they can feel the fear that so many of us have felt. So they can live without parents like I did. I'm coming after them Oxy. I'm not changing that."  
"We're coming after them," she said softly.  
Harry turned around, surprised. After a short silence, he asked "You - you're still with me?"  
She nearly snorted. "Don't think a stupid disagreement is going to send me running, Harry. You're stuck with me for good."  
He smiled.  
"I just hope you can see my point of view."  
He nodded. She was absolutely, undeniably right. As always. But he wasn't willing to compromise on this. There had to be another way out. Out of the Trace, out of this Hogwarts schedule. He had several weeks before Hogwarts. He looked through the course syllabus. Defense Against the Dark Arts? An absolute must. Potions? Definitely. His supply was already running low, and how was he meant to go back to Knockturn Alley every day? History of magic could prove useful, depending on what they were studying. He didn't even know what Transfiguration meant, so he'd stay away from that for now. Herbology... Nope. Anything useful would be covered by Potions anyway.  
One thing was for certain. The Death Eaters were poised, lying in wait for any word of their former master's return. The covers they'd established couldn't be trusted. From now one, he'd have to personally verify every cover - even if the world believed them to be a coma patient.  
And with that, Harry dived into his books.

* * *

Many of you have asked about pairings. Ginny will be the final pairing, but as Harry is 11 and Ginny hasn't even started school, you won't be seeing it for some time; Harry and Ginny will go through his fair share of partners before meeting each other. Additional warning, Harry is bisexual in this story. Prior to Ginny he may get together with boys. But this won't happen for quite some time - again, 11 years old. You have been warned nonetheless.

This section will be used to respond to reviewers' specifically, should that need ever arise. If something that is pointed out will be resolved in a later chapter, I will let the chapter do the talking.

Hope you enjoyed it - see you next time.


	3. Chapter 3

Here we go Chapter 3.

* * *

The Sacrifices We Make

Harry started at the family longingly - all red heads, all freckles. He'd heard about them at Diagon Alley - the Weasleys. They looked... happy. Many had said they had more children than they could afford, and their house was rumored to be packed, but whenever Harry imagined himself in their shoes, he couldn't help but smile. Coming home to a full house - the children running around, greeting a lovely wife at the end of a hard day. He watched as the older twin brothers drove the matriarch insane, and they sneakily ran away before she could finish screaming at them. The little sister was crying, begging to come to Hogwarts as the oldest one walked in a dignified, self-righteous manner towards the train. The shortest brother was comforting his sister. Chuckling, he pulled his eyes away.

"You can have that life." Oxy murmured next to him.

He smiled, stroking her. "No, I can't." She was about to argue when he continued - "And that's okay. I've made my choices."

Harry awkwardly pulled back his hair so Ron could have a look at his scar.

After a few minutes of gawking, Ron apologized and a gentle silence overtook the cabin.

"You're very lucky," Harry said quietly. "You've got a wonderful family."

Ron turned a deep crimson. "Ah, well, not really. They pick on me all the time and," he motioned towards his clothes, "hand-me-downs, and - " Ron stopped quickly. "Sorry. Sounds incredibly stupid, me complaining about bad clothes when you never had a mum or dad."

Harry smiled. A deep part of him wanted to complain about his siblings or his mother's bad cooking. He shook his head. "I'm sure I'd say the same if I had parents."

But Ron was looking fairly dejected.

Harry had a haphazard guess as to what would cheer him up. "So, uh, who's your favorite Quidditch team?" It took all of three seconds for Harry to realize he was spot on the money. Ron spent the next half-hour talking about the Chudley Cannons, and thinking that Harry didn't know anything about Quidditch, he was more than willing to explain everything. Harry smiled at his new friend's willingness and merely took in the moment.

Afterwards, Ron introduced him to his pet Scabbers, and they exchanged stories about their respective families - or in Harry's case, Dudley. At long last a food cart came, and Harry leapt at the chance; he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Ron, on the other hand, shyly showed his sandwich, and his red ears were taken as a sign that his mother had packed lunch for him. Harry brought an extra something for him, and another hour was spent speaking about Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs, which apparently had cards on the back. Harry was rather surprised when one started hopping away. Within minutes, however, they couldn't find it anywhere in the cabin. Harry had a sinking feeling it had something to do with Oxy.

Soon enough, Ron's brothers busted through the door. They both took a moment to look at Harry.

"So then, you're Harry Potter. Pleasure. I'm Fred."

Harry had had enough encounters to know the first impression is absolutely vital. Getting people on your side is essential, and Harry had a hunch he knew how to do it. He'd observed the Weasleys from inside the train. "Nice to meet you, George. I'm Harry," he said smiling.

"And I'm Geo - hang on, how did you do that?"

"Don't ask me to tell you my secrets, and I won't ask for yours."

"Well I'll be." The real Fred looked awed.

The twins suddenly took on a false-seriousness. "From now on, Mr. Potter, we are ever in your debt, for you have earned the respect of the Weasley twins." And with a bow, they left as soon as they came.

"Weirdos, I tell you." Ron had enough time to say before Fred's arm pulled Ron out of the compartment by his ear, and Harry didn't see the boy again.

"Enjoyed that chocolate frog, did you?" Harry asked to a seemingly empty cabin.

"You have no idea. Eating death things is just not the same as alive ones." A smooth female voice responded.

"Seemingly alive," Harry corrected.

"Release a couple more, will you?"

With the last of his chocolate frogs released "into the wild," Harry decided to finish the last chapter of Hogwarts, A History. Harry had just changed into his school robes when the door burst open yet again. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the entire train knew exactly who he was and where he was sitting. This time, however, it was three boys. Harry recognized Draco Malfoy instantly.

He smirked. "Draco Malfoy, pleasure to finally meet you in a proper setting. These are Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry recognized the names. Both sons of Death Eaters. There were at least three future Death Eaters in Slytherin - in his year alone. Harry pushed away his thoughts and forced a smile. "Harry Potter, a pleasure indeed."

No sooner had these words been said than the train stopped. The first years moved towards Hagrid's booming voice, and a short boat ride later they were at Hogwarts.

The castle was magnificent - all that Harry could have imagined and more. From the bewitched sky to the beautiful lake that surrounded it, it had an erie, enchanting glow around it that comforted Harry. This would be his true home.

McGonagall was explaining the House system when he heard Ron muttering about the sorting test. Evidently, the poor soul was under the impression he'd have to battle a troll to be placed into a house. Draco, on the other hand, who obviously knew all about the system, was grinning. Soon enough, the sorting process began.

He noticed the "ooh's" and "aah's" the process seemed to draw. The hat seemed to pause on some students and take its time while on others it was nearly an instantaneous decision. On Draco Malfoy, for instance, it paused for what seemed like hours. At long last it said "SLYTHERIN!" and the left-most table exploded in cheers. For Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, it was an instant "GRYFFINDOR!" At long last, his own name was called. "Potter, Harry."

The room went quiet. Murmurs of "THE Harry Potter?" went around. He nervously made his way up to the stool and sat down.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Please, Slytherin. Harry thought to himself. There's something that I must do.

In that moment, Harry imagined a whole life with him being in Gryffindor. The friends he would have made, the family he never had. But that was some other kid's story. That kid wasn't the Boy Who Lived. That boy didn't have to hunt down Death Eaters. He was envious of the boy, but not foolish enough to believe his destiny was the same.

"Are you sure? Gryffindor could provide you much glory, you know. You have the heart of a lion."

He didn't want glory. He didn't need it. That was something the other boy could seek in another lifetime. But in this life, he needed revenge. And he was willing to sacrifice his rightful place for that.

"You sure?"

He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

"Well then, better be, SLYTHERIN!" The hat cried out, and the Draco's table burst out with tremendous applause and cheers. Harry distinctly noticed a two second pause of sheer silence before the rest of the room politely resumed clapping. He looked up at the Professors' table. Severus Snape, known Death Eater. Present on the list as well. The head of the Slytherin House. He'd have to play nice and get close to the man. An opportunity to get close to an initiated Death Eater was too good to pass up. Hagrid was looking like he was attending a funeral.

Harry took his place next to a boy he soon learned was Nott's son, Theodore. "Another to-be Death Eater," Harry thought to himself. He had certainly chosen wisely. All that was needed was a single slip-up from any of boys, and Harry had his way into the Death Eater network. He looked up at Snape's emotionless face. The man was impossible to read. It would not be easy cozying up to him. Perhaps through his subject material? Snape was the potions master, and Harry had gotten a strong head start on the subject after nearly running out of supplies bought from Knockturn Alley. Over the summer break, he'd made it his number one priority. That, and defense against the dark arts.

His thoughts were interrupted when another boy squeezed in between the already minuscule space between himself and Nott. Harry nearly groaned. Malfoy.

"Glad to see you made the cut," he said coolly.

Draco wasn't one to talk, considering the sorting hat took nearly as long to decide his fate as it did for Harry, but rather than voicing these opinions Harry merely smiled and said, "As if there were ever a doubt."

Draco was nearly giddy. "Wait until I tell Father about this. He'll be ecstatic. I suspect he'll want me to bring you right over." The entire dinner was spent by Draco talking about his father, or his father's expectations of him, or his father's greatness. Draco, as pampered as he was, seemed to be incredibly disciplined when it came to his father. Harry privately suspected that it was his mother that pampered and spoiled him, as Draco was as afraid of his own father as everyone else seemed to be. Privately filing this information away, Harry was glad when Nott finally spoke up.

"Enough about your bloody father, Draco. No one cares."

Harry quickly realized what this dinner was really about: Establishing a pecking order amongst the Slytherins. Draco, it seemed, was already well established into his own pack. Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and several others along with Malfoy were all childhood friends, and Draco was the self-elected leader of this pack. Nott, it seemed, didn't fit into their group. Harry quietly observed that he'd have to cozy up the boy some other way.

The boy had been quiet all dinner long, and Draco hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Perhaps you've already given up on your future, but some of us pay attention when one of the most influential wizards in the world is mentioned." Nott was about to retort, but Draco, already a bit pink, turned around sideways on the table and faced Harry directly, blocking Nott out from view. "So as I was saying..."

Harry glimpsed that Nott had already returned to his book.

Dinner couldn't have ended soon enough. As delicious as the food was, Harry was excited to explore the castle. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he accidentally let out a huge yawn in the middle of Draco's rant (to which he was only half-listening anyway). "Sorry about that, just didn't get much sleep last night." He quickly apologized.

Soon enough, they were led down into the dungeons from the great hall, and Harry's scar, which had been prickling all night, finally settled down.

The common room was beautiful. Lavishly decorated in green, it bled Slytherin spirit. It had a posh feeling despite its coziness. Snape was there to greet them.

"Good evening, first years. You have the privilege of being selected to the greatest of the Hogwarts houses. What does it mean to be a Slytherin? There is no easy answer, and no single evening can do justice to such an intricate question, but I will give you a sufficiently thorough idea. A Slytherin is someone who will do anything and everything to accomplish his goals; he will be unrelenting and manipulate everything. He is not someone to cross, and more importantly, and incredibly valuable asset to befriend. As a house, we will be embracing this mentality.

"This will translate into two direct consuquences for you. First, I will be assigning homework beyond your normal course load. Some of you may believe that this pathetic excuse for a curriculum is sufficient to prepare you for the real world, but let me assure you that it is not. Secondly, whatever disagreements you may hold, outside the confines of this common room, we are a single entity. We stand together because we will almost assuredly be judged together. I will not tolerate public desertion. Are we clear?"

There was absolute silence.

"Excellent. Welcome to Hogwarts." And with that, the man left immediately.

If the intent was to make an impression, it had been made. Most of them couldn't stop talking about their house head for a long time. As Harry found his own bed, he couldn't help but feel absolutely lost as to how to cozy up to the man.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Harry tucked himself in that night and cast a silencing charm around his bed that he'd practiced that summer. He wasn't sure if it worked at first, so Oxy, much to Harry's irritation, knocked a painting off the wall, and when no one moved at the loud sound, he knew they were safe.

"We have our priorities for this first week already," Oxy said quietly. Despite the silencing charm Harry had cast, neither had much confidence, and in case it broke (did charms break, even? Neither were too sure) they didn't want to cause too much noise.

Harry nodded. They had discussed it at length previously. Harry coughed nervously. "Right well, here goes." Harry mentally braced himself. They had ruled out transfiguration, as not only was it too advanced, but it would have been exceedingly painful for Oxy. Then there were illusion spells, but Harry couldn't wrap his mind around the really complex ones that would have been necessary to be of any use. So the only alternative was charms. "This... This might hurt, if I mess up."

Oxy frowned. Harry's voice didn't sound... normal. "Are you... afraid?"

"How can I not be?" He snapped at her. His expression softened at her silence. "Oxy... you saved me. From the Dursleys, from loneliness, from being a Muggle. If something happened to you - "

Oxy turned away so he couldn't her face. "Just... do it, you big idiot."

They both chuckled, and Harry took deep breaths once more. Harry moved his wand and said the words, but nothing happened.

"So... Theoretically, you look like a necklace when you're around my neck to everyone."

She wrapped herself around Harry's neck, but still nothing changed.

"Maybe we need a mirror?" He offered.

They moved to the common room mirror; on the way, Draco stirred for a moment before going back to sleep. Relieved, Harry continued to move. The mirror didn't show any changes either. They decided to try again. On the seventh time, they saw she looked blue in the mirror - that was progress. Eventually, two hours in, they got it to work. She looked like a beautiful turquoise necklace.

"Harry," what appeared to be a necklace whispered in his ear, "What if people ask you why you're wearing a girl's necklace?"

Harry had already thought of an answer for that. "I'm going to say it was my Mom's - it's the only thing I have from her. People don't ask too many questions when orphans are involved."

Oxy agreed - it was a good plan.

Harry soon found himself in love with Hogwarts. With Oxy disguised as a necklace, she could travel with him freely throughout the day, and especially with a cloak on, most people didn't even notice the necklace. Oxy, cold blooded as she was, loved Harry's warmth, so she had no complaints. Harry soon found that the library was his favorite place. He swallowed up knowledge, and since it was only the first week, no one was there. Well, no one save for a bushy brown-haired Gryffindor girl. And, now that he was at Hogwarts, he was finally free to practice the numerous spells he'd studied all summer.

"Had the strangest dream last night," Draco remarked at breakfast.

Nott, reading a book as usual, didn't even acknowledge it.

"Oh, what?" Harry asked without expectations.

"Had this bizarre dream that you had a snake with you. Wrapped around your neck. And you were going into the common room. No idea why."

Harry laughed along with Draco. "Totally strange," he commented as if it were hilarious. It must have been the time Draco stirred. Still, he only thought it was a dream.

"Anyways, come to the common room tonight after dinner. Me and Crabbe and Goyle are going to have some fun."

"I'll see you there," Harry agreed. Finally, some bonding with his Slytherin friends. Harry had of course been right alongside Draco for the first couple days as the blonde boy introduced him around the entire house. It became clear quickly that Draco would be the center of attention amongst his year of Slytherins.

"Please tell me you don't actually like that asshole," Nott muttered aftered Draco left with Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry paused. This was his chance to finally get close to Nott the bookworm and find out more about the boy's father. "Of course not. But his father has something of mine, and I want it back." My life, Harry thought darkly.

Nott laughed gracefully; it was the first time Harry had ever seen the boy smile, never mind laugh. It had an uncanny elegance to it. The way his whole face lit up, Harry would have never thought it was even the same boy. "We all want things from Lucius, but cozying up to Draco isn't the way to get it."

Harry was paying attention to every word. The boy knew Draco's father - and even more, he seemed to want something from the man as well. "Oh?" Harry tried to pretend not as if he was uninterested, but he seriously doubted that he conveyed it.

"So what was the plan, Potter? Cozy up to Draco, get invited home for Christmas, and do what you needed?"

Harry blinked. He hadn't even thought about Christmas, or the fact that Draco would be going home for it. He felt ashamed - the strategy Nott had thought of in five minutes to mock was better than his actual strategy. "Yeah, something like that."

"Heh," Nott smirked like he was educating a naive child.

Harry was captivated by the boy who seemingly didn't have any emotions prior to this. In fact, looking around, other than he and Harry there were very few people at the table.

"Well, don't bother. The way to Lucius isn't through Draco. He keeps Draco on a tight leash. The boy barely knows anything at all."

Harry blinked. "Really?"

"The man's a Death Eater who's come to regret his involvement." Seeing Harry's skeptical face, he added "Oh, he certainly practices Dark Arts and keeps true to all the other pure-blooded virtues. But he doesn't want his son to know or have any part in any of his Death Eater history."

Harry paused. This wasn't Draco. Draco was the know-it-all who constantly spoke of how great his father was, and by extension, how privileged he was. How great he was at flying. "So... you're saying Draco's full of shit?"

"Did you piece that together all by yourself, Potter?" He joked.

So that was the way he wanted to play it? Nott, evidently, was impressed by intellect. And the fact that he was still talking to Harry meant he was off to the right start. But it was Oxy to the rescue. In a low whisper, she told Harry, "This boy once tried to seize something of Lucius'." Harry wasn't sure how Oxy knew, but he could ask her later. Instead, he coolly replied, "So what did you try to take?"

If Nott was impressed, he didn't say. He did, however, take on a more serious tone. "My father was a Death Eater." Nott's voice was quiet. "Lucius didn't like having to fight my father for the Dark Lord's attention. So he took something of value, something that would assure Lucius that my father would never do anything of the sort ever again."

"I'm sorry."

But Nott wasn't interested in his apologies. "I tried the same thing, you know. Sneaking into Draco's house. It wasn't that I was caught - well, not in the usual way. You'll see, if you ever get a chance to go there. People have been trying to kill Lucius for decades. He's not an easy mark, Harry."

It seemed Nott was being sincere. Harry, on the other hand, wasn't sure how to feel about this. Nott's father was a Death Eater, and he had absolutely no intentions of aligning himself with the boy. His only purpose, twenty minutes ago, had been to use his cunning to get close to the boy and extract information. Now, he actually felt sorry for him, and Harry didn't like it. It... humanized the Death Eaters. He preferred them to be bags of blood and evil. Even worse, it seemed like Nott was on the path towards redemption - the same one that he was. Was it okay that a Death Eater's son could be an innocent? Harry didn't know if he agreed with that. He mentally shook himself. It wasn't something he felt like thinking about.

"Thanks for the advice, but there's something you don't know about me."

"Oh?"

Harry flashed a sneaky grin. "I don't get caught." He saw the faintest of smiles on Nott's face, and with that Harry left for the owlery. Draco constantly got care packages from home, which meant that he was in direct communication with his family. He needed to find Draco's great grey owl. Quietly, he pointed at the owl and muttered a spell he recently found. The owl turned its head and stared at him. "Um, nice owl." He had to test whether it worked. "Could you give this note to Draco's father? It's a surprise, for his birthday." Harry lied, and slipped a note into its pouch. Harry turned to his notebook, and to his delight the contents of the note were present in his book. He had perfected it on inanimate objects, but he wasn't sure if it was going to work on an owl. Now he could spy on Draco's mail in peace.

"Now perhaps you won't have to be around that insufferable boy," Oxy whispered. It was at this moment she spotted a mouse and was eyeing Harry with pleading eyes.

"Ugh, fine. Wait! I need to undo the spell so you're not a giant necklace chasing a mouse." With a flash, she was off.

Harry had a strange nervous feeling. She knew the way back to the common room, he knew that. Still, it was the first time they'd separated at Hogwarts. He shook his mind off of it and headed towards the library. Apparently, there was a restricted section that only had information on the most dangerous of Dark Arts, which is why it was restricted to most students but those studying advanced spells.

The Potions Master

Spending the night with Draco didn't end up being too torturous. They ended up sharing stories with the girls in the common room until quite late. Draco, despite his other faults, was a phenomenal story teller. It was odd seeing the boy in his element, surrounded by his close friends, as the center of attention. The audience laughed in all the right places, and appropriate gasps were made as well. The evening was going just fine when, out of nowhere, the focus turned to him.

"So, Potter, what do you do for fun?"

Harry's stomach lurched. Somehow he didn't think saying killing people would go over too well. "Growing up with Muggles, you don't really get too much fun honestly."

The room was swooning with sympathy. "Muggles," Draco said, disgusted. "To Harry - may he never have to endure them again."

The room raised their glasses. "To Harry," they all said.

Harry, sufficiently embarrassed to say anything of substance, took a sip with the rest of them.

The first week proved to be simultaneously disappointing and rather exciting. Transfiguration and Charms were very interesting. Harry had a knack for picking up spells rather quickly, and the teachers' fascination for him didn't hurt too much either. By the end of Thursday, he had net Slytherin nearly forty points. Still, he could see what Snape had meant when he said they would all be judged in a united front. Everyone except Harry, that is. The teachers had subtle (some not so subtle) ways of hinting their dislike for Slytherin, and while Flitwick and McGonagall were fair enough, not many followed in their footsteps.

Oxy was no longer worried, either. Writing with a quill changed his hand significantly than a pen or pencil, and the messages written in blood bore no semblance of Harry's writing. Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, was a miserable disappointment. Quirell seemed to be a total joke, and his turban just made him all the more comical. On the first day the man had joked that Harry didn't even need Defense Against the Dark Arts. He considered not going to class at all, but it turned out every professor began every class with roll call. He asked an older Slytherin McNair if this ever stopped, but the boy just chuckled. Harry took that to mean no, which was a huge disappointment. The only reason he was here was to kill Death Eaters, and an hour of wasted library time was an absolute pity.

So far they hadn't had any classes with the Gryffindors yet, but that would end on Friday when they had double potions. Harry was looking forward to Potions almost as much as Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unlike Quirell's class, Potions was a grueling struggle for Harry. He found himself mastering complex charms or hexes in minutes, but even simple potions required an incredible discipline and rigor that was new to him. Still, it was one of the most useful subjects, and Harry had spent nearly all summer studying.

He entered the dungeons after Nott; the cool, moist air had a nearly homely feel. He wasn't sure why, but he had high hopes for this class. Entering the classroom, he immediately recognized the bushy haired girl from the library. She was there almost as often as he was, probably more. Noting that she was a first year like himself, he took a look around the classroom. There were couldrons for everyone already set up; evidently, the house elves had already moved each student's cauldron to the potions cabinet room. There were ingredients and recipes plastered all over the walls in place of posters or decorations. And in the corner sat the Death Eater that intrigued Harry the most. It was rare for Harry to meet a living Death Eater, and a part of him was exceedingly excited. Harry already decided how he was going to kill Snape.

He was going to brew the potion he bought from Knockturn Alley himself - brew it to perfection, and slip it to the Potions master, as proof that he had bested the man at his own trade. Smiling internally, Harry sat down next to Nott. He saw Ron smiling at him sheepishly from the back, and Harry grinned back. It was nice to see the boy still being friendly despite the house politics that were so strong at this school.

And the moment the clock struct eight, Snape stood up immediately and began proceeding with role call. With his reputation, there was not a single soul late to the class. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The class, not sure of what to say to that, remained silent. Harry himself wasn't sure of what to make of this. The man seemed to be impressed by intelligence.

"Potter!" He asked suddenly. "What would you I have if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The whole classroom saw the bushy girl's hand shoot up.

Harry smirked. "A very good night's rest, sir."

Snape remained silent for moments after this, and Harry couldn't tell if the man was angry or not. He was near impossible to read. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Does Hagrid have goats? Probably - I'd look in his hut."

A twitch. This time, Harry certainly saw the edges of Snape's mouth pull up. Whether it was humor or contempt he couldn't say.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"The difference between aconite and wolfsbane."

Further silence. Most of the class was completely lost. "Excellent," the man said at last. "Ten points to Slytherin. Well! Why aren't you all writing this down?" He turned onto the rest of the class. It seemed Harry had passed the test, and Snape's demeanor changed significantly after that. He would acknowledge Harry often, and even occasionally smile at the boy.

Nott was slightly surprised. The trick to being friends with Nott, Harry learned in the conversation with the boy, was letting him believe he was the smarter one. While he wouldn't associate with idiots like Crabbe or Goyle like Malfoy did, he also liked his ego preserved, which relied primarily on intellect. Harry hoped he hadn't shattered Nott's illusion of him, but it was less important than getting close to Snape at the moment. After all, a current Death Eater took priority over future Death Eaters. Hermione, as Harry learned she was called, did the rest for him. She raised her hand at every question, which made Harry look all the better. Getting along with the man was quite easy if you were in Slytherin: answer any questions asked correctly, and quietly work on your potion. If you were a show-it-all like Granger or utterly incompetent like the Longbottom boy, you were in for a huge dose of trouble.

Still, Harry felt bad for the boy. He had read about what happened to his parents. He lived a similar life to Harry himself, losing both his parents to Death Eaters. Harry wasn't surprised that Snape didn't have pity on the boy - no doubt he didn't approve of the boy's Auror heritage. But even Harry had to admit the boy was hopeless; halfway through the class, he'd spilled his potion and the entire class had to stand on top of the stools while Snape made the liquid vanish. That had lost Gryffindor five points.

During lunch, an owl landed next to Harry. At first he assumed it was meant for Malfoy or someone, as Harry had no one to get mail from, but the owl eventually started nipping his fingers for attention. Looking up, Harry saw a large note on it. "Can't wait to hear about your first week. Come by my house later today." The writing was unmistakably Hagrid's. Harry paused, wondering if it was even worthwhile to keep the man's company. On one hand, if Malfoy found out, it would almost certainly ruin his chance of getting close with the boy. Would Malfoy make an exception for Hagrid? On the other hand, Hagrid was someone Dumbledore trusted deeply; he was someone who knew what went on at this school, and someone Harry could easily trick to get information. He couldn't pass it up; so, at five to three, Harry left for Hagrid's.

Upon knocking on the door, Harry noted the intense scratching and barking. Did Hagrid have a pack of wolves? It turned out it was just one dog, a giant boar-hound. "Back Fang! Down boy." Harry heard Hagrid calm the dog down. Somehow he doubted a dog named "Fang" would really back down. But, much like Hagrid, it was not as fierce as it looked. As soon as the door was open the dog bolted for Harry, leapt on top of the boy and started licking him. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry about that Harry, Fang just loves the attention."

"That's alright Hagrid." Hagrid invited him into his cozy house.

As Hagrid was preparing some tea, Harry couldn't help but see the Daily Prophet on the table. Privately reminding himself to order his own copy from now on (as Hogwarts was more of an island in terms of getting any news,) Harry read through the front page article.

"Hagrid," he called. "Weren't we at Gringotts the day this robbery occurred?"

Hagrid quickly changed the subject. "So how are your classes Harry?"

"Hagrid," Harry lowered his tone. "I... I'm really sorry."

"What are you sorry about?"

"I know I shouldn't be in Slytherin. People keep telling me how great both my parents were, both in Gryffindor. I... I feel like I've been letting everyone down. If they could see me now... I just know they'd - "

"Nonsense!" Hagrid roared.

Harry felt guilty for tricking Hagrid - he really did, but he needed to establish himself - rather, the cover of the innocent boy Hagrid thought him to be.

"Harry, not every Slytherin has gone bad. Just look at Professor Snape! He's Professor Dumbledore's right-hand man, he is! The son of James and Lilly being a disappointment - ridiculous!"

Harry hadn't been expecting that. He had never met Dumbledore, but he didn't strike Harry as someone easily fooled. How could Snape have convinced Dumbledore he wasn't a Death Eater anymore? Did Snape, like Lucius, have regrets? Harry had a sinking feeling that the man's poker face was a lot better than he initially thought. Was it possible... conceivable, that he tricked Dumbledore?

"Besides, Harry. How could anyone suspect you of bein' evil? After you killed You-Know-Who? Ridiculous."

And there it was. The real reason Harry's life as a Slytherin was a cake-walk. Most people simply assumed it didn't matter where Harry ended up. He knew Hagrid had meant this as a complement, but Harry couldn't help but feel slightly unsettled.

"I suppose," Harry said trying to sound as if Hagrid had done an excellent job of cheering him up. "Still, if you didn't have to take care of me that day you could have help stopped this robbery at Gringotts. I mean, Dumbledore trusted you with this enormous responsibility, but because you were caring for me..."

Hagrid smiled widely. "Your heart's in the righ' place, Harry. But don' you worry about that - that's between me and Dumbledore - sides, the thief didn't even - " and Hagrid stopped, covering his mouth quickly. "I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that."

Harry's eyes widened with understanding. "Is that what you withdrew that day? It's at Hogwarts now, isn't it!"

"Now you listen to me, Harry. That's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, that is."

"Okay, Hagrid." Harry lied quietly, but his mind was racing. Hagrid was still too furious with himself to realize he'd given up another, even bigger clue. Nicholas Flamel. He'd almost certainly heard that name before. Definitely in a book. Afterwards, the conversation took a pleasant turn towards Quidditch - the seemingly universal topic that every wizard talked about - and Harry genuinely enjoyed Hagrid's company. He politely said good bye around quarter to six and went back to the castle for dinner. Someone had tried to steal something at Gringotts - and didn't get caught. Something that involved Nicholas Flamel. Something that was currently housed at Hogwarts.

In a single conversation, Hagrid had proven an invaluable friend - if only because he couldn't keep a secret.

His Bleeding Heart

Flying lessons came at last during the third week of school. Harry had been looking forward to this most of all. Flight was something every Muggle dreamed of, and even wizards - despite the entirety of magic at their arsenal - could only fly with the aid of an enchanted object. Wandless, free flight was impossible. Harry looked at the deplorable school brooms. Hard to believe they were magical at all, and yet, that was probably the purpose: to keep the true intention hidden from Muggles.

He hurried himself to the field as a gray-haired witch strode up. Madam Hooch, she was called. Draco was already there, droning on about how he'd been flying for years, and how every wizard who hadn't was basically a Muggle.

"All right everyone, put your arm over the broom, and say 'UP' in a firm voice."

Evidently, this was something books couldn't teach. Hermione was visibly frustrated that despite her perfect temperament and control of voice, the broom merely twitched like a lazy dog unwilling to obey. Malfoy, naturally, was already on his broom in position to mount. Evidently he wasn't just all talk. Harry moved his hand and was about to say something when the broom shot up into his arm. He blinked. How did it know? What just happened? Was it a silent spell he had cast unintentionally? He'd read about non-verbal spells - advanced duelists used them almost exclusively, but the more complex the spell, the more difficult it became to do non-verbally.

"You're mounting your broom wrong, boy," Madam Hooch shouted after making sure everyone had their brooms.

"But this is how I've always done it," Malfoy complained.

"Then you've always done it wrong." She snapped.

Several people chuckled, which Malfoy didn't miss. Once she taught everyone the position for lifting off, she was about to mention how to land, but almost immediately Neville began floating away. Harry groaned. How was it possible for someone to be so incompetent at everything? Neville so far had a hundred percent ratio for screwing up due to sheer ineptitude. Uncontrollably, he went higher and higher. All the while, Madam Hooch merely shouted "Come down this instant," but it was obvious Neville didn't know how.

Finally, at about twenty five feet up Neville's broom ceased, and losing grip, he plummeted towards the Earth.

Harry acted without thinking - grabbing his broom, he kicked off and zoomed towards Neville. As comfortable as Harry was with flying, Oxy despised it. Immediately she began whispering in his ear "Harry please, Harry please let me down I can't do this." He promised her he would as soon as they saved the dundering oaf that was Longbottom. With an upside down barrel roll that Oxy distinctly disliked, he grabbed Neville by the arm and swung the chubby boy onto his own broom.

"Oh thank you Harry, thank you so much I -"

"Harry, please, let me down I can't -"

"Neville, I can't see!"

"Harry I don't know what I would have done - "

"Harry! Harry please!" Oxy was begging in a voice he'd never heard from her. She'd actually never been anything but calm and collected in front of him.

At some point it was evident to all three that they were dive-bombing towards the earth, which only tightened Neville's grip on Harry and loudened Oxy's pleading screams. By the time Harry ripped Neville's arms off, they were just about to crash; Harry veered the broom and pulled away at the last instant, safely landing. Harry was sweating so badly he hadn't even noticed Oxy had excreted uric acid all over the inside of his robes. The class was cheering, but Neville's eyes were still closed, and he refused to let go of the broom for dear life.

"GET OFF THE BROOM!" Harry bellowed. "ARE YOU A FUCKING SQUIB?" Neville, so shocked by the decibel of Harry's voice, fell off the broom onto the soft grass. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? When someone is saving your miserable squib-life, don't COVER THEIR EYES!" It took Harry a couple seconds to realize the entire class, formerly on his side, was now staring in sheer silence. To them, this outburst had come out of nowhere. And now, Harry was a loose cannon instead of the Slytherin that saved a boy. He didn't care; he was currently too angry. How inconceivably stupid could a boy be, anyway? And he was to blame for Oxy being scared to death. Still, try as he might to justify his anger to himself, Harry began to feel thoroughly embarrassed. He should have been more mature. And he knew it. If they say him as a jerk, then fine. He'd be a jerk, he darkly decided, still too proud to admit his faults. He threw the broom at Madam Hooch's feet. "I believe I've demonstrated sufficient aptitude with a broom." Wiping his shoes on Neville's robes, he stormed off, leaving the boy whimpering on the floor.

As soon as they reached his dorm, Oxy dashed off his neck and rushed underneath his bed.

"Oxy, Oxy I am SO sorry. If that stupid oaf hadn't - "

"Leave me alone."

Her voice was cold. "Oxy, I don't care that you, you know..."

"Excuse me?"

Harry missed the warning signs. "You know, wet yourself. That was terrifying, and I apologize for that idiot's - "

"Get. Out. You SELFISH shit-hole."

"Y-You can't possibly think this was MY fault?"

"Oh, you HAD to take me with you, without any warning? Did you just conveniently FORGET that I was in your cloak, unable to see ANYTHING that was going on?"

"What was I supposed to do, leave you on the ground?"

"Gee Harry, Merlin forbid you leave a snake in the grass!"

Harry blinked. He had forgotten. In the rushing excitement about flying, he had completely forgotten. And worse, he'd tried to pin the blame on Neville because he was too proud to admit his own shortcomings. Then, he'd completely lost control of his emotions and exposed his true self for the entire class to see. And finally, he had hurt Oxy in a way no one else could: he'd betrayed her trust. And forgotten about her. That blame rested squarely on his shoulders. He sighed. He was too embarrassed to face Oxy, too angry to talk to any student. He needed a bath.

The more he thought about Neville, the worse he felt. Harry knew all about the Longbottoms and how they were tortured. He had felt the agony of that curse for under a minute, and it had already exhausted his spirit. Imagining someone strong enough, and loyal enough, to withstand hours of the curse while never giving up their friends... And ultimately, leaving behind a son whom they would never recognize. A boy who every time he visited St. Mungo's Hospital would beg for some form of communication - any form - but receive none. Neville's past wasn't so different from his own. In many ways, Harry was the lucky one.

He didn't even realize he'd been crying when he saw that his book was getting wet. Occlumency. He'd figured out Snape's secret - the man must have been a master to be able to fool Dumbledore. Unlike many of the other tomes found in the Hogwarts library, the Occlumency book was just a paltry fifteen pages. Three steps, five pages per step. Clear your mind, block your desires, hide your emotions, recognize intruders, and push them out. Simple enough, right? Then why was he sitting, naked on the bathtub floor, sobbing his eyes out? Why did he scream at a poor orphan while simultaneously betray his best and only friend?

He knew why. It was as the Sorting Hat had said. His bleeding Gryffindor heart.

If he was to progress at all, that weak heart had to stop beating.

* * *

I realize this chapter was quite angsty, but I want Harry to wrestle with the fact that while he belongs in Gryffindor, he chose to be in Slytherin, and he'd better accept the consequences that come with such a decision. I think Harry is still quite immature in pretending he can handle this, and he doesn't recognize the real scope of the decision that (without full consideration) he made at such a young age.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Draco

As Harry entered the common room, the entire hallway burst into applause. The story had quickly spread through like wildfire, and even older students like Marcus Flint - students that Draco had secretly wanted to make connections with - were recognizing and cheering Harry on. He bristled as Harry was surrounded by first-years and older students alike. He'd heard about the boy's difficult childhood, growing up with Muggles. Draco had been nothing but kind and welcoming to a boy who was a loner, spoke to himself in strange whispers, and seldom left the library. He'd organized a dinner party for this child and forced his friends to extend such a welcome - a dinner party to which, after attending for barely half an hour, Harry had sneaked out. But again, Draco had stuck up for Harry in front of his friends.

And now, the boy was leaps and bounds ahead of even Draco, on the shoulders of the Quidditch team captain, laughing as if he didn't have a care in the world. Draco frowned and felt even stupider. He had been the one to tell Flint about Harry's "performance" on a broom in the first place, and now? Now he'd secured himself a spot on the fucking team. Snape, who was basically his uncle for all intents and purposes, had specifically gone to the headmaster and bent the rules for Harry damn Potter instead of him. But the worst part was that Harry was undeniably better than he on a broom.

When Harry had mentioned it was his first time on a broom he could barely believe the boy. So much raw talent was unheard of. And the worst part was he had initially declined Flint's offer. Said he didn't have time for fun and games like Quidditch. Harry was basically a Mudblood - wasn't being raised by Muggles the same thing? He didn't have even the most basic appreciation for Quidditch, and yet HE of all people would be the youngest seeker in over a century. HE of all people would be getting a brand new Nimbus 2000, paid for by the school - waving the requirement against first-years, mind him.  
He sat, watching Harry intently from the doorway of the first-year boys' room. Just several feet in front of him, he saw Nott intently watching Harry as well. It seems the boy wasn't celebrating Harry's latest success either.

"Not cheering your boyfriend on?" Draco sneered. He wasn't sure why he was being bitter towards Nott currently.

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy." And even Nott left to cheer Harry on, leaving Draco to brood. He moved into the bedroom. If he'd spend another minute in the common room he'd be sick. He'd always felt at home at Slytherin - his favorite color was even green, for Salazaar's sake. But now, in the eerily empty bedroom, he'd never felt more alone. And a nasty voice from deep within him spoke up.

"Ah, but you weren't really meant to be in Slytherin, were you? That's why the Sorting Hat took so long to decide, didn't it."

He shook his head. He just needed sleep. He just - but the voice went on, louder than before.

"You sure? You have a deep loyalty, Draco. Hufflepuff would show your merits to the world, you know." The voice replayed the memory over and over. An image of his father, enraged, popped into his mind. First Malfoy in centuries to not be in Slytherin. And the nasty voice continued. "I'd rather die than be in Hufflepuff, wouldn't you? You were only put in Slytherin because you begged - grovelled like a peasant, didn't you?"

NO, no it wasn't true. He closed his eyes, praying for sleep. Loyal? What did that stupid hat know anyways? He wasn't loyal at all. In fact, he'd destroy Harry. And that stupid hat if he ever saw it again. Then he'd see who was loyal.

Oxy

Oxy remembered the next couple being some of the worst; too angry to speak to him, she had gone to bed underneath the bed frame so she wouldn't have to look at him, but without Harry's body heat, she was shivering all night. She was glad it was over. Morning had come, and with it the sun's warmth. She smiled sleepily, still half asleep, basking in the warmth of - Wait a minute. She awoke with a start. The dungeons didn't have windows. No sunlight should have been coming in. She peered through a single open eye, trying to convince the world she was still asleep. She was moving. Someone was carrying her. Harry was carrying her. She was in his robes. She became very still. Did he know she was awake? She didn't to face him yet. She had successfully humiliated herself, begging and screaming (and urinating) like a child - and then been to proud to face him at all.

"I wanted to make amends for my... carelessness." A soft voice came.

Crap. He knew. And his voice didn't sound... normal. Occlumency training, she knew in her gut. Several days ago Harry was talking about a masking potion that subdued emotions. No doubt Harry had been drinking it.

"So I prepared a surprise for you," he went on undeterred by her silence. "I know you're still upset, so I'll just leave you to it, then."

In her initial anger, she hadn't even looked at him, but now guilt was starting to buildup. She wasn't upset anymore. She turned around to call back for him, but he was already gone. She looked around. Well, where the hell is the surprise then?

Ribbit.

She desperately wished for eyebrows at that moment, if only to raise a single one. Really Harry? A chocolate frog? But she was rather hungry. To her surprise, the moment she crept forward it inched away. She dashed with a burst of speed but it easily jumped out of the way. Okay, this one was a bit faster than most frogs. Three minutes of constant chase later, she still hadn't caught it, but she noticed something was fishy. It always hopped in a single direction. And only moved when she moved. It was leading her somewhere. To the real surprise.

Twenty minutes in, diving underneath rocks and through underground tunnels, the frog finally stopped. She slowly inched forward to make sure it wouldn't move. It remained still. With a sudden hunger-inspired viciousness, she swallowed the meddlesome frog whole. Taking a look at her surroundings, she finally saw some light. She was far underground. How could there have been light? Slithering through a crack, the light became brighter and brighter until the crack opened up entirely.

Harry had been up all night, probably for the past several nights - he had to have been. Before her was a replica of Australia.

She'd remembered her mother telling her what Australia was like, but, of course, she'd been born in Britain. It was better than anything she could have imagined. The brown dirt camouflaged her scales perfectly, and she heard a distinct scurrying. He'd found mice? This place was a paradise. She dashed after the sound of the mouse, weaving around the rocks as cover. The heat was making her hungrier than ever. Pausing in the shade of a small bush, she waited, listening. If only her mother could see her now. There! She weaved left and chomped down.

Chocolate.

She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Harry had done a good job - a fantastic job. Everything seemed so real. Perhaps that was why the fake mouse was such a disappointment. Still, how could she complain about this? She moved to the pond of water. It was wonderfully cool and blue.

"I'm sorry."

A recording of Harry's voice. He sounded torn, like he was trying to hold back sobs. Before the masking potion, no doubt.  
"I'm so, so sorry. But I can't stand not being with you. Every time you wander off I'm so afraid. What if someone hurts you?"

She frowned. Did he forget who killed Rosier? Did he forget who almost killed Dudley?

Evidently, he did not. A chuckle came through. "I know I'm being ridiculous. You're an extremely venomous reptile, and I'm stupid to think you're helpless. After all, you're the one that saved me. But you're also my closest friend and my only family."

Okay, maybe he did realize what she was thinking. But he certainly didn't know how she felt. He couldn't even empathize to the most basic -

"I sat for a long time yesterday and thought about what you said, and you're right. I hadn't even considered your perspective. You've always just been with me, doing whatever I do, that I didn't even take the time to consider what you must have been feeling. Hogwarts has provided me everything I've wanted, but for you, it's just another foreign land. No snakes, no Australia. Not even proper food. And that's not fair. It's time I start considering what's best for us, and not just what's best for me. I'm sorry. I... I was so taken by the school that I forgot. That was... irresponsible, and unfair to you."  
Ugh, fine. Maybe he did know how she felt, but that didn't mean she had to forgive him.

"I wanted to make it up to you... So I got the idea for a sanctuary for you. It's a long story, but apparently Salazaar Slytherin could talk to snakes, too. I found a book about him in the restricted section of the library last night. I know the food is just chocolate for now, but I'll fix that. I promise. Just give me a couple days, and once I understand the engorgement charms, I can make this place into a giant landscape with real food and everything."

A wry smile was on the edge of her mouth. Maybe she was ready to forgive him.

"And... when - if, if you're ever ready to forgive me, I've added a secret path from here to my bedroom. It's narrow and really long right now, but I didn't know what else to do. But if you're not, you don't have to worry about me sneaking in there. Only a snake can go through this passage."

"Harry..."

But the voice was gone.

Ron & Hermione

She delved into her book. Honestly, did anyone study at this school? Ugh, whatever. She didn't have time for anyone else anyway; Professor Flitwick's homework assignment wasn't going to finish itself. Somehow her thoughts landed on Harry. He probably finished the assignment already. The new wonder-kid. Of course she'd read all about him. Defeating the Dark Lord when he was just two years old. With a resume like that, what was she supposed to do? Still, she wasn't going to down without a fight. She'd just have to double her efforts and study for twice as long.

She grabbed a quill and was half-way through a word when she realized it wasn't a quill at all. It was someone's finger. Harry's finger.

"What?" She asked a little sharper than she had intended to. His hazel eyes glanced back at her. He was in the library as often as she was.

"Do you know where Neville is?" His voice was unusually soft.

Hermione approached him with caution. She didn't know much about him, and he seemed easily irritable. On one hand he'd saved Neville, but then he turned around and brutally assaulted the boy, screaming at him and wiping his shoes like he was some rag. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you know or not?"

He looked... tired. The old life just wasn't there. "Well, I'm not telling you where he is."

"Okay," he turned around to leave.

"W-Wait, that's it?"

He stared at her blankly. "You're right, where are my manners. Sorry to bother you Ms. Granger."

"You won't hurt him," she commanded. He snorted before muttering something incoherent, but she distinctly caught the phrase "hurts himself just fine." She briefly pondered the chances of him actually hurting Neville. She doubted it. First years didn't know enough magic to do any real damage. But then again, Harry was one of the few who'd read the entire set of first year textbooks. Her brain was whizzing. She herself knew a few spells that could do real damage. And if she knew them... She grabbed her books and rushed out of the library.

Then Harry certainly knew them.

"Seems like a loose cannon to me," Seamus said darkly.

Ron agreed with the boy. It was like a switch was flipped. Up until that point, Harry seemed like quite a decent guy. They had sat in the same compartment in the train, and he seemed nothing but nice. He wondered if the boy had actually been mocking him, with everything he seemed to say about his family. He didn't seem like the other Slytherin students - no Malfoy, at any rate... Even still, there was a reason the expression was 'a snake in the grass.'

He rounded a corner when - SMACK - he ran into a bushy haired girl.

"Hey, watch it you!" He yelled out of instinct, but the girl barely heard him.

Her book bag had ripped and she was desparately grabbing her belongings together. Finally, she looked up and gasped.

"Ron!"

"Hermione, is it?"

"You were with Neville just now!" She said furiously.

"Uh, yeah. Me and Seamus and he were just - "

"Where is he now?" She interrupted in a flurry.

What was wrong with women? Were they all crazy? "He's just going to the Herbology greenhouse to - "

"You don't understand!" She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him along at a brutal pace.

"But I need to go to the library to finish my - "

"Neville's in danger." She said darkly.

"What?"

"Neville." She was panting. "Harry."

"Christ." She didn't have to say anymore. "Neville's alone right now?"

She nodded.

"And Harry, he just - "

Another nod.

The two sprinted after him. After a ten minute walk, they finally caught up to the greenhouse. Greenhouse 1. The label was covered in vines and moss, but it was distinguishable. "Wait, Hermione," Ron stopped her. "He's perfectly safe."

"Ron, didn't I just - "

"No, listen. He's in the greenhouse. Professor Sprout."

A wave of relief washed over both of them. How could they have forgotten?

"Thank goodness. And it's close to curfew, too. Could you imagine what would happen if we were - "

But Ron looked increasingly pale.

"What?"

Ron pointed.

Sure enough, in the distance was a stout, dumply woman walking towards the castle. Professor Sprout. Ron barely turned the door handle when it began to squeak.

"Move over, Ronald." Hermione muttered. With a wave of her wand and a simple enchantment, the door moved with total silence. Narrowly opening the door, they both crawled in and hid behind the first counter.

"What do you want?" A quavering voice came. "For all the stuff you said, you've come and cornered me when I'm all alone?"

Ron looked at Hermione, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing. Neville's voice, beyond a doubt.

"I'm here to apologize."

Hermione's hand pushed Ron's jaw off the floor and back into his mouth.

"You left your remembrall out on the field. I believe your grandmother gave it to you."

Harry's voice was quiet and tempered - almost forcefully so.

"H-How would you know?"

In Ron's opinion, Neville was pushing it. Didn't he realize how dangerous Harry was? He would have just taken the damn remembrall and high-tailed it back to the common room.

"It has a note on it... from your grandmother." Harry was still calm.

After a short silence, Ron heard an "Oh, right." Neville, you idiot.

"All my life, I've hated Voldemort for what he did. Growing up with the Dursleys, not knowing I was a wizard, never getting to know my family... But that doesn't even begin to compare with seeing my mother and having her not recognize me. I... The Cruciatus Curse is one of the worst aspects of magic, but for someone to go through hours and not budge... Your parents must have loved you very, very much. They fought for a world where their son could live without fear, without persecution. I guess what I'm trying to say is, if after all they've given, I bully you for how good you are on a broom? Then... then I'm no better, am I?"

There was a long silence.

"It's the anniversary, isn't it?" Neville quietly asked.

"Tomorrow, yeah. Look, I," there was another pause. Perhaps he was trying to search for the right words. "I don't expect you to forgive me. Hell, if I were you, I wouldn't. All I can do is promise you that I am so sorry, that this will never happen again, and pray that you're a better person than I am."

There were footsteps, and Ron's heart started racing. Harry was approaching them.

"Harry..."

The footsteps paused.

"I think your parents would have been proud of you."

It was all the time Ron needed. He and Hermione crawled to the other side of the cabinet.

".. Thanks Neville. If - if Malfoy ever bothers you, you let me know."

The door opened, but there was a pause. Harry opened and closed the door twice more, as if inspecting something. Realization hit Ron. Hermione's spell - she hadn't undone it. He was about to mouth words to Hermione, but she was miles ahead of him. She silently whispered an incantation and the creaking resumed.

It seemed to work. Harry opened the door and left the greenhouse.

A huge wave of relief washed over her. Once she was sure the danger had passed, she and Ron both got up. What neither had counted on, though, was Neville's anger.

"Overheard all of that, did you?"

Ron was flushed, and Hermione had the decency to look remorseful.

"Think it's funny? Two orphan boys going through mood swings?"

"No!" Hermione interrupted. "Neville, we were afraid. We heard Harry was looking for you and we thought - " She paused. Given what had just occurred, her assumptions were, in retrospect, completely unfounded. "We thought he may do something." She quietly finished.

He angrily grabbed his books. "Well do me a favor - next time you think I'm in mortal peril, mind your own damn business." With that Neville stormed out of the room as well.

"You think he'd be more grateful," Ron blithely commented.

Hermione stopped for a moment. This was the first time he'd ever taken her side. In anything. "What do you mean?" she asked innocently, knowing perfectly well what the ginger boy had meant.

"I mean, after all the help you give him in potions, and looking for his toad Trevor - the one time we look out for him from any serious danger, he explodes at us."

She gave Ron a genuine smile. "Come on, we should head back as well."

"Still, we probably should have waited until Neville left, too." Ron said sheepishly.

He was right, of course; but in the adrenaline rush it had completely slipped their mind. Entering the castle, they quickly caught up to Neville, who in addition to being lost, had forgotten the password. Of course the boy was still too angry to speak with either one of them, but, knowing they were in the wrong, they quietly walked as a group towards the Gryffindor tower. Rounding the final corner, dread filled their stomachs. Peeves.

"Students out of bed," Peeves threatened with a quiet smirk.

"No, no Peeves, please." Ron was begging.

Hermione eyed the final hallway - about fifty meters. They'd just have to run, get to the portrait, scream the password and bolt into the room. They could do it before Filch arrived, couldn't they?

"PEEVES," a raspy voice came out of nowhere.

All of them jumped, and Peeves nearly fell out of the air.

"B-Bloody Baron, sir your most ghostliness, sir."

"Leave this corridor, the Baron has his own reasons for escorting these troublesome first-years."

"O-of course your Baron-ness, your most bloodiness." And Peeves sputtered away immediately.

"Hermione, that was bloody brilliant!" Ron remarked cluelessly.

She didn't have the heart to tell Ron it wasn't her until they were safely inside the common room. She'd had enough adventure for an entire year - she'd almost been expelled and it hadn't even been a semester into her education! What was she thinking? Her mind must have been playing tricks on her because she could have sworn she saw a pair of shoes standing where the Bloody Baron had been. Shaking it out of her mind, she went straight to her bedroom, vowing to never have after-hours adventures again.

Severus

Masking potion, Snape recognized immediately. How many years he'd made that potion, preparing himself to face the Dark Lord. How many thousands of hours he'd spent in Occlumency training... But why was a first year attempting this? And what did he have to hide? No doubt he'd been up for the past several nights, as he was almost falling asleep in class. It didn't matter - the boy had finished his potion in the first half hour.

Snape had promised the headmaster he'd be fair to the boy, but in reality he couldn't keep his word. Every time Harry looked at him, it felt like Lily's piercing gaze was shattering him to his core. Like the day he had called her a Mudblood. The boy's Occlumency training hadn't progressed so far as to prevent Snape from seeing through him. Try as he might to pretend otherwise, Harry Potter detested him. But not in the way his father had. No, this was something deeper. The boy was trying to cozy up to him, he didn't have a doubt.

He dismissed the class, calling Harry back.

"Is... everything alright?"

"Yes sir," the boy feigned a smile.

Should he let the boy know he knew about the masking potion? No. It's not what Lily would have wanted. Treat him as an ordinary child, and get him to trust you. For Lily. "I see..."

"How is Quidditch practice? I trust your new broom is up to standards?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Sir. It's more than adequate. I - I must thank you for convincing Professor Dumbledore to bend the rules for me."

"I sense you are hesitant to play?"

"N-No, Sir. I'm grateful."

Snape raised a brow.

"It's just... Practice is quite exhausting, and I'm already behind on my classes. Forgive me, Sir, perhaps it's because I was raised by Muggles, but it's just a game."

Definitely not his father's son. He may look like James, but the boy was Lily incarnate. Snape himself had taken his mother's name to rid himself of his despicable father. That was something they both shared: a worthless father. This boy was Lily's son. A second chance.

"Sir?"

Snape snapped out of this thoughts. "Continue regardless. You will find that taking a break will help to... clear your mind... which will reap unexpected rewards in your pursuits." He said pointedly. Based on the subdued surprise on Harry's face, he was sure the boy understood.

"I... I see. Thank you, Sir."

"You may go - " he stopped himself. He was no Potter. He was an Evans; he just didn't know it yet.

The boy was about to close the door to the classroom when he turned around. "Too much ginger, Sir?"

Snape kept the grin to himself. The boy was curious as to how he knew about the masking potion. Too bad, some secrets he'd keep to himself. "No, just the right amount. Well done."

Clearly, that wasn't he answer he was looking for. "Thank you Sir," he said quietly and left.

There, the boy knew that he knew. Severus shivered. Looking at the goosebumpbs on his forearm, he couldn't help but feel the boy reminded him of a younger version of himself. Determined, secretive, hard-working. He smiled to himself. Perhaps he really did belong in Slytherin. It was almost like having Lily back. He took out a picture of his lost love and stared longingly. Although they grew apart, he and Harry would not. In time, the boy would learn to trust him. Just like she had.

Fred & George

The entire Gryffindor team had gathered in the astronomy tower so they could spy on the first Slytherin team practice. Well, most could give two hoots about the Slytherin team - they were there in no uncertain terms to spy on Harry.

Ron had told Fred and George in great detail what had occurred during the flying lessons, and it appeared that Harry was an arrogant prick. Fred and George had initially disagree, but given that their opinion was from a thirty second conversation with the boy, they gave Ron the benefit of the doubt. But what was undeniable was Harry's skill. Marcus Flint was rumored to have tossed aside the old seeker without a second's doubt.

"Well, here's to another tough year," Angelina glumly said.

"Hey now, that's no way to talk," Olliver began, but George quickly cut him off.

"Oh what's the point Olliver. We're doomed. No Seeker, and now Slytherin has found itself a silver bullet."

"A what?"

"I don't know," George admitted. "Just something my Dad says a lot - a Muggle expression, I think."

Olliver was still determined. "He's good - there's no denying. But it's not just skill that determines a match's outcome."

"What are you talking about Olliver?" Fred asked irritably.

"It's determination. It's gusto. Marcus Flint was bragging to me that they've got unwilling Quidditch players more talented than our team. Do you realize what this means?"

Realization slowly dawned on the team.

"He didn't even want the position?" George asked incredulously.

Wood nodded, beaming. "He asked to quit, and when Flint wouldn't take no for an answer, he went to Snape. Snape forced him to play. I think he wants to humiliate us especially badly this year."

"But we still need a Seeker." Katie pointed out.

Wood smiled wider than ever. "No, we don't."

"Have you hit your head too hard, mate?"

He looked straight at Katie Bell. "You're going to catch the snitch."

She guffawed.

"Look, this is the only way. Desperate times and all. I've combed through Quidditch Through the Ages, and nowhere does it say the Seeker has to be the one to catch the Snitch. It just evolved that way since the Snitch is worth so much, most people decided it'd be worthwhile to have one of the team mates just look for it exclusively. But we don't have that luxury. I want you all to keep an eye out for the Snitch. Katie's the fastest one of us, so the primary responsiblity will fall to her. But if at any point, any of you see the Snitch, either tell Katie without alerting the Slytherins, or just go for it."

The entire team was excited.

"Got to hand it to you, Olliver, didn't think you could think out of the box like that."

He gave the twins a wry smile. "I can when I need to. The first match is against Hufflepuff, so we'll get to try out our new strategy. The problem is that by the time we face Slytherin, everyone in the school will know what we're doing. But knowing and stopping us are two different things entirely. We'll win this year."

"For sure," George chimed in.

"I can feel it," Fred recited.

"Oh shut up," Olliver said in good fun.

Still, despite the jokes, the excitement was palpable. This was a crazy strategy - an insane strategy, but it had given them all hope: something they hadn't had for the past three years with regards to Quidditch.

Theodore

Theodore observed the boy before him. For the past week, he'd been growing steadily more tired. The change after the Longbottom incident had been sudden and non-trivial. Harry seemed more focused, and a sudden calm seemed to have taken him over. Many seemed to be concerned with the 'new' Harry. He'd overheard Daphne Greengrass, for example, mutter in hushed tones that the boy was unstable, and he was on a slow but definite path to insanity. He smirked, sinking into his own book.

Potter wasn't crazy. He'd just finally found his own drive. Something Theodore had found all those years ago when Lucius condemned his own father. No, even before that. When his father killed his mother.

It would have been obvious to anyone who had even the slightest bit of drive, Theodore thought, but of course no one in this pathetic school had an ounce of willingness to study. And now? He flipped a page. Harry had finally found himself, just like he had.

He observed a smug, golden-haired head walk by. That's all Draco was - a giant, ego-filled head who simply could not stop talking. He smiled, nearly giddy. He paused for a moment to wonder why he Harry's falling out with Malfoy made him so happy. Well, it was obvious. Harry had a good mind - a focused mind that could achieve marginally great things if put to good use. It would have been a waste to see it spoiled by the likes of Malfoy.

"Come on Theo, let's go to lunch," Harry said quietly putting his books away.

Theodore was about to inform the boy that he hated 'Theo' when he suddenly decided he liked the way Harry said it. He stood there for a moment, mouth awkwardly hanging open, deciding whether he should correct Harry. "Sure," he said before anyone could see his indecision and instead left the library.

Lucius

He stared at the letter in disbelief. Potter had just made contact. Was this a ruse by Dumbledore? He examined the owl's leg. The owl was being traced. "Reveal yourself," Lucius muttered and pointed at the letter-holder, and instantly a gleam of yellow poured out. He smirked. A copy charm. Still, what more could he expect from a first-year student. Draco's mail was being examined. He racked his brain to think if he had passed any sensitive information to his son.

Of course he hadn't. Working in the Ministry had taught him to never trust owls to begin with. He stared at the note Potter had left him.

'One wrong move, Lucius...'

Lucius almost laughed. The child had no idea with whom he was dealing, and if he wanted to play with the big boys, then so be it.

The weakness of copy charms is their lack of versatility. The eldest Malfoy grabbed a quill and paper. 'Remember Draco, Potter is extremely dangerous. If anything at all seems out of place, Professor Snape will not hesitate to dispose of the boy. After all, he is the most loyal supporter of the Dark Lord.' He smiled, examining it. No doubt the boy had already received a copy of it. With a swift motion, Lucius threw away the false letter into the dust bin. It's time the Malfoy family switched owls to one that could not be traced.

He knew it was Potter; it had to be. The boy had probably chosen Slytherin just to get close to Draco. He had to warn Draco - but how? No doubt everyone would think him a nutter for accusing their precious Boy Who Lived of anything. Even Snape refused to see the truth. They all thought him paranoid. He'd have to warn his son without anyone knowing. Getting in without Dumbledore noticing was impossible. That damned old coot.

And then a sudden idea came. Lucius smiled. Perhaps he needn't have to after all.

* * *

Given that Harry is taking masking potions and sealing away his mind to pursue revenge, I thought the chapter should thematically follow and not narrate from Harry's POV this time.

My favorite section personally was the Snape one - Severus wants nothing more than to welcome Harry with open arms, while Harry is plotting to poison the man. It was fun to write, and I've already written a lot of the future interactions.

That and the Draco section, which was also fun to write. Harry's unintentional mean-ness towards Draco; his intentional mean-ness towards Lucius. And so it goes.

Onto chapter 5!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Boy Who Lived

Harry willed himself away from Oxy's sanctuary, which was now complete. He'd barely slept for the past week, but after hours of research and hours more of charm work, he'd managed to perfect it. It seemed like the longest week of his life; every part of his heart ached to speak with her. And today was her favorite day of the entire year. Halloween. Ever since she discovered that costumes were part of the celebration, she relished being seen out in the open with Harry. Of course, she'd draw 'oohs' and 'aahs' for how "realistic" she was.

This would be their first Halloween apart, he supposed. He absentmindedly twirled his fork into his eggs. Food didn't even taste as good. But he had promised her space, and if that meant never receiving forgiveness so be it.

He felt slightly overwhelmed. Ever since he learned the long-term effects of the masking potion, he'd stopped. He'd have to learn to subdue his emotions the hard way. But the recent dependency seemingly magnified everything he felt. Still, he thought grumpily, it wasn't like wizards went trick or treating - or even had costumes. So what was the point. Oxy could go hide in her Australia, and he'd hide in his. That was that.

Suddenly, the great turban-wearing idiot burst through the door screaming about a large troll.

It was instant pandemonium.

Prefects were screaming at first-years, students rushing this way and that to get back to the common rooms, Peeves having the time of his life. Dumbledore's booming voice brought the entire hall to a standstill. They formed orderly lines at his command and slowly led everyone out of the Great Hall.

Two and two just didn't add up. The troll was supposed to be in the dungeons - then why were the Slytherin students rushing headfirst there? Wouldn't it have been safer to house them in one of the other common rooms, or to simply go outside? And why was Snape heading to the third floor, so determined? Was he trying to steal what was being guarded at Hogwarts? If ever there were a time for his invisibility cloak, it would be now, but he simply didn't have it. More than that, with students running all over the place, he was sure to bump into someone. He set after Snape.

Hermione

She should have known the insensitive git that was Ron Weasley couldn't have kept up being civil for more than three days at a time. She wiped her tears and prepared to leave when a horrible smell filled the bathroom. Exiting the stall she came face to face with aa twelve-foot troll, mucus oozing from its dull, grey skin. She backed up against the wall, frozen with fear. Try as she might she couldn't think of a single spell - she couldn't quite think of anything, at that moment.

Suddenly, the bathroom door blasted open. It was none other than Harry.

The blast seemed to have distracted the troll for a moment, and it whirled around to look at its new prey.

"Wingardium Leviosa." It was the barest of a whisper, but Hermione heard it. The club flew into the air, and Harry began beating the troll with it repeatedly.

Frustrated, it grabbed the club and smashed it into pieces.

Another whisper - Hermione couldn't quite make out the words - and the shards of the club all flew into the air, sharp as knives, pointed themselves at the troll, and rushed forward.

Impaled in several places, the troll let out a scream.

"What are you waiting for? Get out of here!"

It took Hermione a moment to register that Harry was speaking to her and not the troll.

But by this time it was too late - whatever time Harry had bought had run out, and the troll was angrier than ever. It smashed the ground with a powerful fist, but Harry managed to dodge it unharmed, leaving only a small crater in the bathroom. Harry pointed his wand, and this time, the strangest thing happened: the troll lurched over and fell.

Her eyes were fixed on Harry. There had been no lip movement. There hadn't even been wand movement, as far as she could tell. Just how had he done this? And how dangerous was he really? Was it dead? She couldn't be sure.

The hallway was filled with chatter, and that chatter grew steadily louder. She groaned. The Professors were about to arrive at any moment.

Sure enough, they did.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey, Severus," she heard McGonagall's voice.

"No, I will investigate this first, I think."

Quirrell came in, gave a whimper, and sat down on the toilet, clutching his heart. Snape entered with a curious look on his face, examining Harry. She saw his leg was brutally damaged, and it appeared he had done a half haphazard job of bandaging it to control the bleeding. McGonagall entered last with a cool fury.

"What on earth were you thinking?"

"Granger wasn't at the feast. She didn't know about the troll. Somebody had to warn her." Harry cut her off before she'd gotten the chance to speak.

A small silence followed.

"You killed it." Snape said quietly. Hermione did a double take. She assumed it had been knocked out. "Not many first years know how to kill. May I ask how, Ms. Granger?"

"Harry did it." She felt him glaring at her. Did he not want the credit? "He saved me," she adjusted, seeing his fury. "He knocked it with its own club, and then when it smashed that, he - " why was he still angry? "He did this amazing spell where all the shards of the club sharpened and attacked the troll. And then - " Harry shook his head with the smallest of motions. If he didn't want to tell the Professors, that was his prerogative, she supposed. After all, he had just saved her.

"And then it died."

"Trolls have especially thick skins and are quite resistant to magic. The damages you describe might anger a troll, and cause it to scream as I'm sure the entire castle heard, but are not sufficient to kill one. I ask again, how did the troll die?"

Snape turned his attention to Hermione.

"It was a non-verbal spell, sir. I don't know how he did it," she squeaked.

It was quickly evident the Professors hadn't been expecting that, for the silence that took hold of the room afterwards was deafening.

"Well Mr. Potter? Is that true?" McGonagall asked at long last.

"Yes," he quickly said.

Again, a silence. "I would like to speak to Mr. Potter alone," Snape said.

Hermione and the two other professors exited quietly. "The feast is being finished in the common room, Ms. Granger. Please go there at once."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Her Home

"What was the curse?" Snape asked calmly, but Harry saw an edge to the man's voice.

Harry paused. He could have rattled off three curses that had the same effect. But Snape wasn't one to be fooled so easily. Harry wondered if this was a moment he could use to his advantage in gaining trust with the man. The risk was too high. But the man was injured. There wouldn't be a better opportunity to kill him. "It wasn't a curse," Harry quietly replied. Guard your mind. Remove all emotions. Refuse to let the moment get the better of you. Mentally reciting the Occlumency book seemed to help calm his excitement, if only to get his mind off the current pressure.

"A hex, then?"

Snape was toying with him. Waiting for Harry to slip up. It wasn't going to happen. Harry, for one, still hadn't decided whether he should kill Snape or not. It was two against one, after all.

"It wasn't a spell," Harry maintained.

"Where did you get the poison?" Snape finally abandoned the pretense.

"Made it." Harry stared the man straight on. Did Snape know he was using Occlumency? Probably. Was it effective? Most likely not. But it was better than nothing.

"You are... remarkably curious. Not many would rush to find nightshade."

Harry shook his head. "Poppies. My aunt grew them. Made an opiate to mask - "

"The effects of the heart stopper." Snape finished. "Clever. Very clever. And you waved your wand because?"

"I wasn't sure how quickly it would take hold. I was actually preparing for another spell when it lurched over, dead. It was... faster than I had anticipated." Harry replied truthfully for once. No, he had already decided how he would kill Snape. He would slip the man poison, besting him at his own trade. But the practical side of him disagreed. While poison was the more elegant death he'd planned, reality rarely allowed for such opportunities. If was ever going to kill a Death Eater, it had to be now.

"You neglected to account for the poor circulatory systems trolls have. Size is not the only factor in determining the potency of the potion."

"Yes, Professor." He replied distractedly. But everyone knew he was in here alone with Snape. If the man lurched over dead, now... He'd be the prime suspect.

"Breaking the rules is not something to be taken lightly," he cautioned. "This time you have saved the life of a student, so I am excusing you. Do not believe it differentiates you from any other student with respect to the limits set at this castle."  
Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir." And that injury would take at least a week or two to heal. No, now was not the right time. He was already a major suspect for troll. He'd wait his time, while Snape was still injured. And then kill the man.  
"Very well, Potter. I'd say it's time to head to bed."

Harry suddenly panicked. What if someone investigated the body? What if someone took a blood sample at the site of impact? "Professor? Would it - would it be possible for me to harvest some of the blood? Very valuable..."

"Very well." Snape stood, watching Harry.

Harry approached the body of the troll. He had to be careful. Where would Oxy have bit the troll? She wouldn't have rid up his back, or Harry would have seen her. It had to be down low. The legs. He approached the right calf carefully, and he spotted two tiny red dots. Fang marks. Breathing a silent sigh of relief, he slashed around that region, removing all trace of the fang marks, and slowly withdrew blood around that region. He chose the most crimson portions because not only were they the most valuable, but they were most likely to have Oxy's venom since it prevented blood clotting. When a sufficient amount was gathered, hovering in the air as a giant ball of liquid, Professor Snape conjured a flask and gave it to him. Harry slowly guided the liquid into the flask. The last remaining proof of Oxy's involvement.

Well, except for Oxy herself, and Harry had no idea where in the room she was. He hoped she was well hidden because it was unlikely Snape would take his eyes off him.

They both entered the Slytherin common room together several minutes later to the curiosity of most of the other students. The entire student body had been in their respective common rooms, still celebrating. Harry preferred it that way. He was hoping to quietly sneak away to his bed and immediately try to find Oxy, but Snape had other plans.

He called a quiet end to the feast and assembled all the Slytherin students to the common room.

"Your homework is a ten foot essay about non-verbal spells and their uses." He said in a deathly quiet voice. And with that, he left.

Many eyed Harry with anger. Was he the source of the extra homework assignment? He wasn't sure. He hadn't even used a non-verbal spell - what a ridiculous notion. He wasn't sure what convinced Hermione that he was so capable as to use techniques five years beyond his capabilities, but he supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world to be thought of as capable. Still, when the time came for people to consider suspects for the Vigilante, such a reputation would undoubtedly harm him.

He needed to be thought of as incompetent. He needed to be - and before he could stop himself for shame, his brain finished the thought - Neville Longbottom. The last person anyone would believe a killer.

Tiredly he moved to his bedroom; he was about to jump onto his bed and bury himself in hours of sleep when he noticed an unusual crease in the blankets. He carefully opened the covers to find Oxy. In a flash he cast a silencing charm around his cot and dived into the invisibility cloak with Oxy.

"Why are we in your sweater?" She began carefully.

"It's an invisibility cloak. I got it the night after... I got it a couple nights ago." Harry's heart was pounding. Had she forgiven him? They weren't talking about it. But they were conversing, and that was better than nothing. He couldn't lose her - not again.

Oxy stared at him with curiosity.

"Professor Dumbledore," he filled in the silence quickly, as if she could leave at any moment and only his talking would keep her with him. "At least I think it was him. The note didn't really say who it was from. It said it belonged to my father, and it was time I had it back. It's how I've been studying in the restricted section these past couple nights to prepare your - " he was about to say home. But he didn't want it to be her home. "your place," he finished roughly. He wanted to be her home.

"You've stopped the masking potion," she calmly noted.

Was she pleased? "Yeah, I.. I found out some things about depending on it long-term. I'm going through withdrawal symptoms for the next day or two."

"So that's why you're so moody," she muttered. Reading the indignation on his face, she continued "'I want to be your home', Harry? How cheesy can you get?"

Oh. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Damn masking potion.

"How did you get back?"

"Pipes." She replied with a cheeky grin.

"Pipes," he repeated, amazed. It was brilliant. They were already in the bathroom. In fact, if Harry soon found out the piping infrastructure at Hogwarts, Oxy would never be spotted again. More than that, they could catch Snape or any other Death Eater by surprise. The castle had to have an immense volume of unused pipes. "That's brilliant," he whispered to himself.

She slithered up to his neck, licked his ear and whispered, "I know." Then, in one smooth motion, curled herself on his chest and fell asleep.

Harry laughed, wiping the tear from his eye. Everything was going to be okay.

Lucius' Warning

They spent most of the next day catching up in private about all the events that had occurred. He explained about all the research he'd been doing, and she was a perfect audience. She gasped and 'ooh'-ed in all the right places, and was extremely appreciative of the work he'd put in for her sanctuary. He explained to her how he'd apologized to Neville to close the chapter on that book. Given that he was a vigilante, he thought it'd be best if he was on the good books with everyone. The fewer people to suspect him the better, and Oxy agreed.

Still, neither were sure about what to do regarding Ron and Hermione overhearing the conversation, but not everything was lost. Due to their ineptitude, Harry had followed them back to their common room, pretending to be the Bloody Baron. Now he knew where the Gryffindor common room was, which was worth being eavesdropped on a single conversation. In the end they both decided to let it go for now.

"We're dreadfully behind on our training," Oxy murmured.

It was true. With all the excitement, Harry had barely opened a book on how the Trace worked at all. He had another eight months to figure something out, or he'd spend an entire summer as a Muggle.

There was a familiar flurry of the morning post. When Oxy was surprised at the package he'd received, Harry explained that he'd taken a subscription to the Daily Prophet so he could keep tabs on outside news firsthand. And this morning, it proved to be a good idea.

"Vigilante At Hogwarts" read the front page. There was a quiet murmer amongst the students as they all scrambled to read from the closest person who had a copy of the newspaper.

Harry read on. Rita Skeeter again.

"An anonymous tip has revealed to me that the crusader known as The Vigilante - " Harry rolled his eyes. Known as? It was a name she'd given him. " - is in fact at Hogwarts. The Vigilante had murdered three individuals known or accused of being Death Eaters within a month, and since September there hasn't been a single whisper. Indeed, my informant has told me in no uncertain terms that the next strike will only occur during the Christmas holidays or the summer vacation. Many have told me that such crucial information to the investigation should not become public, for The Vigilante himself may come across it, and change his pattern accordingly. Readers must note that I have indeed already taken this into account.

"I tried persuading the headmaster in a private manner to begin investigations multiple times, but nary a response arrived. I would personally not be surprised if The Vigilante is Dumbledore himself. We all know his distaste for dark wizards, and the years have proven especially frustrating for one so gifted as Dumbledore. No doubt with his loosing grip, he may have sought out revenge personally. I do not understand any other reason why the headmaster would not agree to the ministry doing the most painless of investigations. After all, if, as he says, Hogwarts has nothing to hide, then the investigations will come up empty after all."

Lucius made his move. And a bold one it was. This confirmed Harry's suspicion that Lucius knew it was him. This was the warning. If Harry did anything to hurt Draco, he'd reveal everything. It was then he remembered that he hadn't filled in Oxy about his recent dealings. She was furious when he told her he had gone ahead and contacted - well, threatened - Lucius Malfoy with his son's safety. He showed her the letter Lucius wrote back.

Lucius had two points of leverage on Harry: Rita Skeeter and Severus Snape. Snape was the greater threat. A phenomenal occlumense, a great potions expert and knowledgeable about poisons. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was a fantastic dueler as well.

The other oddity was Draco. The boy usually would be orbiting Harry constantly, like some sort of puppy dog. Still, he was nice enough; he'd invite Harry to certain events or offer help on coursework, not that Harry needed it. Now however there was a sense of malice when he looked at Harry, and for the past week he hadn't said a word to him. He sighed. Draco, Harry supposed, decided that he didn't like Harry at all. And somehow this decision was made right after the Neville incident.

Harry didn't mind too much, but it meant the plan to visit Lucius at his own home during the Christmas break was not going to happen. In a way, it was quite relieving. It meant that he could stop pretending to like Draco's boorish sense of humor or the stories that always ended with his father.

Still, the last thing he needed was for this Rita Skeeter to draw attention to him. Now the whole world would be on the lookout if something happened at Hogwarts. How was he supposed to kill Snape now? He'd undoubtedly have to sneak out of school somehow to kill someone - during the school year, to show that Skeeter was full of shit. That didn't help any; he couldn't apparate from Hogwarts, even if he learned how to. He supposed he could apparate from the edge of the grounds, but first years had very limited access and even fewer privileges. Even worse, if he ever managed to get out of Hogwarts, he still had the Trace on him... It meant that figuring out a way around the Trace was, once again, top priority.

Perhaps it was time for another visit to Hagrid. Whoever tried to rob Gringotts was undoubtedly a Death Eater, and since whatever was at Gringotts was now at Hogwarts, the Death Eater was going to try and come here. Or they were already here. Either way, it gave Harry a perfect opportunity to strike - one that he wouldn't pass up. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Sorcerer's stone was being hidden at Hogwarts, but regardless, he felt confident he could tease the information out of Hagrid.

But all of that would have to wait until after the Quidditch match. Heading into November there were two matches scheduled; the first being Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and the second was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. As part of team strategy, Marcus Flint had made it mandatory for all members of the team to watch every game so as to study the other houses' strategies.

The Optimal Strategy

After realizing he never told Oxy about Quidditch and its many rules, he explained at length the circumstances which led him to be on the team. After about half an hour of constant talking on Harry's part, he finally stopped noticing the wry look on her face.

"That's stupid," she blurted out.

"What's stupid?"

"The rules. If the snitch is worth 150 points, then a team should have two or three seekers, not just one. It doesn't matter how many goals the other team scores, since the snitch is worth fifteen of them."

He paused. she was, of course, correct. The optimal strategy was to have the bare minimum number of players to slow the other team's chasers. So long as they could prevent the other team from scoring fifteen goals, that was enough. Every other spare player should be a seeker. He wondered if it was absolutely necessary to even have two beaters. Couldn't everyone just carry bats? Probably hard to catch the Quaffle, but then again - the Quaffle didn't really amtter, did it. Only the snitch did.

"Yeah," he finally said after a long deliberation. "That is stupid."

They piled into the Quidditch pitch, and Harry was about to conclude he'd never get good seats when two rough hands took him and lifted him into front. It was Flint. Harry realized at that moment what a "Seeker's build" really meant: he was tiny. Flint was only three years older than he but virtually Dudley sized in terms of muscle. Harry distinctly noted Terence Higgs, the old Seeker, glaring at Harry.

Most of the match was uneventful for Harry; while Flint and the others kept muttering famous Quidditch manuevers and tactics, but Harry had a nervous feeling the entire game. Something wasn't right about the way they flew. Gryffindor was losing by roughly fifty points - most of the team didn't even have their heart in the play. When he brought this up with Adrian Pucey, the Chaser, he merely shrugged and said, "Well, they've been dead last past four years haven't they?" But all of them would, time to time, simply look around, as if they were lost.

And then it hit him. Oxy wasn't the only one to think of the Snitch idea. In fact, especially because they were short a player, they weren't even really bothering to play properly. All they the keeper had to do was prevent most of the Hufflepuff goals, and the rest of the team was looking for the Snitch. Sure enough, one of the beaters, he guessed George as he couldn't tell from this distance, burst off, abandoning a bludger entirely. It took a whole five seconds for the Hufflepuff team to recognize what was happening - and by then it was too late. George, or perhaps Fred, had the snitch in his hand, and that fifty-point differential meant nothing.

The Gryffindor section exploded with cheers, and Harry couldn't help but smile himself. It was a clever strategy. It was the first game they'd won in years, and considering they were down a player, it showed sheer execution potential on their part. Those six players truly were extraordinary. A part of him wished to be with them. He'd be the missing element in many ways, as their seeker. But it wasn't meant to be. Not in this lifetime.

The players quickly exited and Flint had them enter an empty classroom to reflect and strategize.

For all the cunning that House Slytherin was meant to possess, many members of the team simply couldn't wrap their heads around what had happened. Miles Bletchley, the Keeper, kept pacing back and forth, ranting about how they got lucky. Marcus, on the other hand, was silent, deep in thought.

"No they didn't," Harry blurted out, and the entire room became quiet. Harry hadn't said much to anyone but Marcus himself, the boy who recruited Harry personally on the team. "Isn't it obvious? That's the strategy to win."

"Listen kid, you're a good seeker - a great seeker, maybe even the best we've had. But don't pretend you know anything about things outside of the Snitch."

"Whoever catches the snitch almost always wins," Harry continued undeterred. "The correct thing to do is have almost all of the team be willing to get it."

"He's right," Marcus interrupted when Miles was about to protest again. "The kid's right. You've got a good eye for strategy, kid."

"Well then, geniuses, what are we going to do about it?"

Marcus took over now. Bad as his grades may be, when it came to Quidditch, Marcus was a brilliant tactician. "They only have six people for now, but expect that to change. Given how successful this strategy was, it's almost certain that they will get another person - it doesn't matter who. Even if that person just sits on the ground, keeping an eye out for the Snitch. The good thing is that we have another chance to observe them in the Ravenclaw match before they face us. But they have two, obvious weaknesses. They players are good, no denying that. But if they're constantly on the lookout for the Snitch, then they're playing distracted. It's absolutely vital that we gain a significant lead on them. We're going to do serious work with the Quaffle. And the Bludgers. If we can keep directing Bludgers at them, it will keep them off tilt. The second factor that differences us, is they don't have anyone with a real Seeker's build." He looked at Harry now, expectingly. "Harry's faster and lighter than any single Quidditch player at Hogwarts, and he's got the best broom. Normally, seven pairs of eyes beats one, but remember these are seven distracted pairs of eyes, half doing real Quidditch and half looking for the Snitch. We'll get them."

Marcus ended the discussion there. They had more pressing concerns since the Ravenclaw match was just one week away while they wouldn't play Gryffindors until the spring. And they'd get another chance to observe Gryffindor before then.

Friends

"You seem... more at peace," Nott said.

Harry smiled. It was two days before the Slytherin match against Ravenclaw when the withdrawal symptoms of the masking potion were finally finished, and Harry felt like he was making leaps and bounds in his Occlumency training. He could finally clear his mind properly every night and have peaceful, nightmare-free rests. "Yeah, I've stopped having those nightmares."

"Good, that's good."

Nott was being... stranger than usual.

"And... how are you doing?" Harry filled in awkwardly.

"Great, Obviously." He deflected. It was a usual Nott-like thing to do: be snarky to hide something. "I'm great. Yeah..."

"Good." Harry replied coolly.

"Yeah." The response was a little softer, perhaps it wasn't what the boy was hoping for.

Still, Harry wasn't going to play games. Nott would either grow up and ask him like a man, or not. In the mean time, Harry had to figure out how to get rid of the Trace.

They both went back to their books. It was almost habit to do everything together with Theo by now; Harry would sleep through breakfast due to his late night sessions in the restriction area, but he and Nott would get lunch together, go to class, get dinner, and spend any free time in the library. Nott was a silent boy, but Harry usually didn't mind the silence. It was a peaceful one, where both of them could simply be, ignoring any worries or falsities of the usual pecking order politics. Still, today something was off.

"Harry," Nott began a little louder than he'd intended - as if he was working his own courage up.

"I'm not deaf, you know."

Nott didn't respond to the jest. He definitely was working up to something. "Listen, my, uh... I was wondering if you'd want to come to my house for Christmas."

"Oh," Harry blurted out. That was not at all what he'd been expecting.

"Bah, that was stupid right? Haha" he laughed flatly.

"Sure."

"Oh, really? Great, great. I'll see you for dinner then." And he quickly left the library with a sudden skip in his step.

"That is one ssstrange boy," Oxy hissed.

"Tell me about it."

Still, it worked out better than he could have hoped. He had a perfect excuse to be out of Hogwarts, and to hell with Rita Skeeter anyway. He'd kill a couple more Death Eaters while he was at it. He had his eyes on Mulciber Senior for a while now. An old man, and one of the original Death Eaters. He wasn't in bad shape like Rosier had been, but Harry knew far more spells now than he had back then. He was confident. He looked over at Oxy. And he had her.

She seemed to know what he was thinking. "The boy invited you to his home over Christmas break," she remarked astutely.

"H-How did you know?"

"Lay low. This Skeeter woman is more of a threat than you make her seem."

"I can handle it," Harry said flatly.

She was about to respond when Hermione approached him.

"Hey Harry."

"Neville is right over there," he pointed, "and I can assure you he is breathing. So I'm not sure what we have left to speak about," Harry said coldly.

She paused. Taking a deep breath, she proceeded. "Okay, I deserved that. I wanted to apologize to you. I... I thought the worst of you because..."

"Because I'm a Slytherin," he finished for her. He'd never admit it, but it felt nice to receive the same treatment the other Slytherin students received for once. Every professor simply assumed he was golden, but now he had an actual, tangible experience where someone had assumed the worst of him. He tried to maintain his angry face.

"... Yes." she admitted. "And I'm sorry. And I wanted to thank you for saving me from that troll. That was incredibly brave Harry."

"Woah, don't want you accusing me of being a Gryffindor now."

"Of course not, there's nothing wrong with being a Slytherin - I didn't mean it like - "

"It was a joke, Hermione. I'm giving you a hard time."

"Oh." She paused, smiling. Suddenly, her smile grew wider.

"What?"

"You- You called me Hermione." Then she stuck out her arm. "Friends?"

Harry paused. She would be useful, there was no doubt. She was brilliant at charms, and he was stuck with regards to the Trace, which he was sure was a charm. Plus, being associated with a goody-two-shoes would help avert suspicion from his being the Vigilante. A better cover. Harry realized she was getting nervous based on how much he was thinking. Quickly, he shook her arm and smiled. "Friends."

* * *

Uploading earlier than usual because I'm moving, so I won't have time to upload for a while.

Yay moving :) ! Boo no time :(

Things to look forward to next time: Draco's plot, Quirrell/Snape action, and what is Nott doing!? Pre-teen boys, sigh...


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